


A New Dark One Rises (dream kisses never saved anyone)

by lanoyee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 10:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanoyee/pseuds/lanoyee
Summary: At the end of season 4, it's Regina who picks up the dagger.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91
Collections: Aleatório, Kyalin





	A New Dark One Rises (dream kisses never saved anyone)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fanart: A New Dark One Rises](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372429) by [PinkRabbitPro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRabbitPro/pseuds/PinkRabbitPro). 

> The accompanying fic to PinkRabbitPro's [fanart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372429). Originally a part of the Swan Queen Big Bang IV: Four Letter Words, now reposted independently.

_This is a story we all know._

Once upon a time, there was a Queen, and she was very unhappy.

Her pain began early in her life, under the watchful eyes of a cruel mother and a helpless father, and when she was to marry a king against her will, darkness finally took root in her heart. Soon she met a powerful sorcerer, and he fostered her desire for revenge, for her stepdaughter had brought misfortune upon her and thus aroused the Queen's eternal ire.

“Reach for the power, it is within your grasp,” said the sorcerer. “Only you decide what to do with it.”

The power was old, much older than she, and felt familiar and foreign at the same time. It built a fortress around her heart the longer she studied it, and soon she had no sympathy left for anyone or anything.

After many years, she cast a curse to punish the loathed princess, whose life neither soldiers nor poison could harm. The curse brought the Queen and her land to a world that was hers alone, as for twenty-eight years, no one would remember but she.

And she chose a child and raised him, and loved him much, so much better than the child she had not chosen.

Then one day, he brought his birth mother home.

They hated and they fought, and they loved and they lost. There were moments when the Queen thought she might be happy, but she never quite was.

When her erstwhile teacher's ancient darkness came for her in primal chase, she knew all was lost.

_And here is where the story takes a different turn._

How she had envisioned _the Darkness_, Regina did not quite know. An echo of it had been her steady companion since she started dabbling in magic (maybe earlier), and occasionally she'd feel it roiling, like that bad taste you sometimes get after waking up from a nap. But in the early days, she had looked at Rumpelstiltskin with a curious eye, wondering what his darkness must feel like, that all-encompassing thing that had kept him alive for centuries. 

What was it that turned a simple man, a cowardly man into a feared sorcerer and known trickster, of whom everyone preferred to speak in hushed tones back in the homeland?

So it was with a vague curiosity mixed into terror and paralysis, a feeling of utter surrender like none she'd felt before, that she faced the too-slick tendrils which sped toward her

_choosing her_

at a breakneck speed

_enveloping her_

until she became the eye of its storm.

From the outside looking in was what she'd worked so hard to build – the people she would begrudgingly say were dear to her. The incorrigible Charmings and their even more incorrigible daughter, plus her pirate mascot. Their incorrigible daughter, who was looking at her, and saying something, and –

_“Emma, NO!”_

she couldn't, _could not_ take that dagger, it screamed inside Regina, louder than the storm around her, louder than fear or terror or deep curiosity, was _you can't do this_, and even as Emma insisted _you worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed_, Regina gathered her magic and whipped it against the brutal tendrils and leapt forward, knocking the dagger out of Emma's hand.

There was really only one way left to go. 

It was very sharp, the way she felt four sets of eyes filled with identical horror boring into her back, but Regina did not hesitate. She raised her hand into the air.

The darkness, as if confused, had halted a moment, allowing for a moment of breaths held, but now, as if on cue, descended upon her with fury. It wasted no time intruding upon her being, seeping into her now as if her skin and the borders of her personhood were made of thin cheesecloth. Feelings too unfathomable to name burst within her soul like the ripest blackberry you've ever tasted and she knew, she knew at once, this was what she'd been looking for –

_This was like coming home._

All this time. All this time looking for destiny, and here it was. Regina wanted to weep with the finality of it, the loneliness she now had to bear, the bitter joy of finally in her heart of hearts knowing to be true what she always feared. _Nothing to save about me._

It was little more bother, then, when she dissipated and vanished into a warm deep dark nothing.

\---

Emma Swan didn't know her knees were shaking until they hit the concrete she'd been standing on. They made a scraping sound; a quiet thing, perfectly normal. The paving was bathed in the white-tinted light of Storybrooke's streetlights. Behind her, people breathed.

But Emma's eyes saw nothing. She was having that moment after a catastrophe when the brain just plain refuses to comprehend and decides to put on the mental equivalent of a screen saver. Sorry, we're on standby now. Come back later.

The first thing she saw was the dagger, but she thought she must be dreaming, because the name on it was all wrong. What a weird dream, where Rumpelstiltskin's dagger bore Regina's name instead. Dreams were the memory rearranging itself; everything got jumbled all together.

It wasn't a dream, of course. Emma shook her head and breathed in the chilly air through her open mouth. It misted on the exhale. 

She closed her eyes when she heard footsteps approach. “Emma,” came Mary Margaret's – her mother's – voice. Emma swallowed and all but dashed forward to take hold of the dagger; then she rose and turned toward the small group of people behind her. 

In the face of the confusion, devastation and apprehension she was met with, Emma made a point to square her shoulders and let her gaze sweep through their rough half-circle congregation, making eye contact with each of the people present: her mother, her father, Hook, and Robin. “Regina's gone.” 

Hook shrugged, apparently not much affected by what had transpired. “So it appears.”

Mary Margaret took another step toward her, and on her face was that look that said she was about to embark on an attempt to Fix Everything. Emma swayed backward a fraction. “Emma, it's not your fault...”

Wasn't it strange how sometimes there were those moments when you could feel your own nostrils flare? Desperate to escape the overwhelming amount of motherly compassion she'd never learned how to deal with, Emma's eyes landed on Robin's. A pang of sympathy hit her – she'd never liked the guy much, bore a thoroughly unreasonable grudge against him for failing to be Regina's happy ending, but he _had_ just lost a soulmate. 

“Where has she gone?”, he implores, clearly distraught. 

Emma's lip trembled; she briefly bit it. “We don't know. But we'll find out.”

Killian came forward, stepped into her view, and pointed his hook at the dagger in her hand. “Why don't you try using that to summon her? She is now the _Dark One_ after all,” and the way he spit the words sent a shiver down Emma's spine.

“I don't know,” she said, glancing down at the dagger with its brand new inscription. There was so much pressure behind her eyes suddenly that she had to squeeze them tight for a second. “That's kind of a terrible thing to do.”

“Well, how else do we know?”

“She could be lost somewhere!” Snow interjected, hands now clasped in front of her coat.

“Or,” Killian regarded Emma with a conspiratorially raised eyebrow that she definitely didn't return, “she could be wreaking havoc.”

Emma snorted audibly, and it was all she could do not to stomp her feet like an indignant five-year-old. “Fine!” She whirled back around, away from everyone else. Couldn't stand to see their faces right now. It occurred to her that the idea of summoning Regina seems private somehow, almost intimate. The dagger in her hand felt like a rock that has been warmed by the sun; not quite alive, but not cold and dead.

She jutted her arm out in front of her and looked skyward, to where she'd just watched Regina disappear. “Dark One, I summon thee!”

Nothing happened. 

Just then, she heard the steps of someone running behind her, and a very familiar voice. “Mom?”

And Emma found that she hadn't actually felt like _shattering_ up until now. “Henry,” she miraculously didn't stutter. Even while she helplessly watched as Henry's eyes fall upon the dagger in her hand.

Watched his eyes widen, fraction by fraction. “Mom... Mom is the Dark One?” 

Her child was looking at her and he looked like his heart was about to break and she didn't hold back anymore, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. ”I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” 

“It's okay, mom. It's not your fault.” But his voice hitched, oh brave little boy. Their brave boy. Emma held on a bit tighter. 

“We're gonna fix this, Henry, okay? We're gonna fix it.” Over his shoulder, she met her mother's plaintive gaze and found limited solidarity. That was the problem when your parents were the same age as you: sometimes the person you wanted to turn to was hardly more than a girl herself. Robin stood there, confused, Killian just looked brooding, while David gave her an encouraging nod. She flashed him the tiniest of smiles, grateful. 

Then she disentangled herself from her son. “Okay, so we're going back to Gold's shop and see what's going on there. And then we'll just... go from there.” 

\---

Being sucked into a vortex of evil turned out to be interesting. Deeper than dreams, a primordial soup of thoughtfeelings. When Regina was younger and just starting to explore magic, she'd sometimes done trips with Maleficent, but they'd never been quite like this. This time, Regina felt as though traveling along the very _fabric_ of magic. And she couldn't see nor hear nor touch, but perceived the power that had taken hold on her crystal-clear nonetheless. 

And the power was dark, it was sinister, but Regina wasn't truly scared. The darkness stretched, lingering but vaguely hungry, like a great wide somewhere. Disoriented, Regina phantom-walked along a pull to – she didn't know where. 

Then everything was dark again. 

\---

Some time later, who knew how long, Regina woke unceremoniously to daylight, cold and white-tinted, indicating an overhung day. A musty smell permeating the air was the first thing she noticed, for it was a bit sharp. A second examination revealed it to not merely be the dust that apparently coated her surroundings, but a faint hint of stale magic as well. 

That particular scent was one she'd smelled before, and it was what caused her to open her eyes at last. 

She was lying in her old bed in Snow White's castle. Alarmed, she shot up, heart beating wildly. A hasty look around the room revealed it in eerie stillness. No fluttering feet of maids, no breath of guards, or creaking of their armor. The place was deserted. 

Of course it was. That was where the smell came from – it was the curse they'd cast with Charming's heart to get back to Henry and Emma. A veil of it lay over the room, probably the entire castle. 

None of this explained _why_ Regina was here. 

Even shorter of patience than usual, she stalked over to the window and all but ripped off the curtains, and didn't at all regret actually tearing them. Snow could pay that if she ever came back, and as redeemed as she would ever be, it was far from Regina to deny herself petty kinds of satisfaction.

Outside, the footpaths and gardens were overgrown under a wholly drab sky, but she could detect nothing else unusual. Clearly, whatever mystery landed her in this predicament was not very forthcoming. As she was uneager to remain in the hated site of many years of misery much longer, Regina exited her chambers and set to exploring the castle for clues.

\---

With his last breath, the Sorcerer's apprentice had told them the key was none other than Merlin himself, and they must find him. 

The problem was, there was no way known to them left to travel across realms.

Emma decided to worry about that later. Instead, she turned toward Henry and gave him a weak smile. “Hey, kid.” She put one hand on his shoulder and looked beyond him to her parents as she spoke to her son. “Why don't you and everyone go have dinner at granny's. I'm gonna go check your house, see if Regina's there.”

“I want to come with you.” Of course he did. Stubborn kid. 

“Well, that's too bad, cause you're not gonna,” she said, making sure to keep her voice light and put a quirk to her lips to soften the blow. 

Just the thought of running into Regina now made her heart pound wildly, blood rushing all the way up in her ears, drowning out every other sound for a second. 

Henry's voice quickly broke through the haze, tethering her back to the world. “But she's my mom,” he insisted, face set in that way that said he was trying his best to be brave, to be grown-up, but his youth was written all over him all the more for it.

Emma didn't really have to lean down nowadays to be on Henry's level. She'd never done that anyway, it had been Regina's thing. But right now she strangely felt the urge, as if taking a page out of Regina's book would magically grant her the mommy skills she never really acquired, not authentically, and even though she could recall the memories Regina had given her clearly, they felt distant now, more like a movie than something inscribed in her being. But Henry was almost her height these days, so she could only dip her head a little and look him steadfastly in the eyes.

“Yeah, kid. She's your mom. And above all, she'd want you to be safe. Even if it's from her. So that's what I'm doing. I'm keeping you safe.” The words tasted like betrayal on her tongue, but Emma had long learned to be pragmatic when the situation called for it.

But no pragmatism, no experience prepares you for seeing your child's heart break in front of you. No matter how many things mother and child had endured, the moment when Henry turned away from her and ran down the street still left Emma with empty hands outstretched, grasping at thin air with the desperate need to get him back and hold him. 

Which she acted on a second later, calling his name as she ran, fear pumping through her veins. Because she knew he was headed to Mifflin Street – it was his home, after all, but if Regina was there, she couldn't let him face her alone.

Of course, Regina being there was actually the thing she hoped for. The ideal scenario: find Regina quickly, talk to her, stand by her side as they somehow found a quick solution to their new problem. There was the catch, of course: the only solution to “being the Dark One” they knew was death.

Then again, Mr. Gold wasn't dead, not yet. There was hope. She had to cling to it.

For now, she finally caught up to Henry and grabbed his jacket, stopping him in his tracks. He yanked himself free, but they both stopped, panting heavily. “I'm sorry,” Emma said, looking up at her son from beneath a curtain of hair. “We'll deal with this. But I need you to listen now, yeah?”

Even in the darkness, she could see the conflict in his eyes – a war between a hurt child and a boy who had to grow up too fast. And it was not the same as she was, exactly – she never got a warm, cozy home, didn't remember a time of innocence with a loving family, and so the progression between childhood and adulthood had never been clear or linear – but it was familiar enough to make her heart ache with it.

Finally, Henry nodded at her. “Okay.”

She sent him off to Granny's and continued on to Mifflin Street.

\---

Emma should not have been surprised to find the place deserted, but though she knew the big house was empty the moment she set foot in it, she still felt compelled to search through all of the perfectly furnished and meticulously cleaned rooms, idly wondering how Regina had kept it all in order before she broke the curse and magic came back. For all her bombast and insistence on her own royal status, the thought of Regina employing a host of personnel was somehow odd, but she must've been doing so. Either that or she really was one of those people who seemed to command near boundless amounts of energy. Emma, who sometimes despaired even of her small room at the loft, couldn't imagine it. 

Stepping into Henry's room, which she'd rarely set foot in so far, it hit Emma for the first time what really had transpired. Her son had lost his mother and she had lost the only real friend she had left in this town and the thought induced an anxiety that settled in her stomach like one of those gross balls of their own hair that cats periodically cough up.

\---

When darkness settled over the ravaged lands that had once been Regina's kingdom, and with it a certain stillness only punctuated by the call of birds both shrill and gentle, she had searched the entire castle and the gardens as well and now felt her exhaustion catch up with her. She sat down at a desk in one of the several offices that had once belonged to advisers at the court – perhaps the Minister of Finance, but she didn't really care either way – fighting the urge to pace. Regina in a predicament was never one prone to allow herself rest, but she had a whole kingdom to comb, perhaps an entire realm, for her solution to this problem.

She downright sagged when she realized she didn't even know what exactly she wanted solved. She needed to go home, that much was clear. And then there was the small fact of the darkness sitting in the back of her brain, nibbling (_the darkness likes how you taste, dearie_), but she was fairly certain there was nothing to be done about that. 

And she wasn't sure she reviled the new support she imagined to feel holding up her spine quite so much. 

Planning to hit up old contacts the next day, she lay into the bed in the next room over and fell into a fitful sleep. 

It was a sleep that soon brought her to a state that felt too real to be a dream, and for a moment Regina wondered whether she had awoken again, but then she found herself decidedly not in the dusty, moth-meal bed she'd preferred as a resting place to her own, and the thought of having actually having changed scenery yet again was a little too ridiculous to believe. 

Nonetheless, right now she stood on mossy grass next to a lake. Both ground and water were overhung with fog under a darkened sky, the twilight seeming oddly unnatural. The shore spotted a quai, to which a small rudder boat was towed. Moss-bedecked trees rounded out the morose scenery. Regina stepped toward the water.

“I wouldn't go there if I were you.”

Regina felt herself jump and whirl around toward the direction the new voice had come from, only to discover a caped and hooded figure hovering a few feet away at the lakeside. It sat far enough away that the fog seemed to swallow up its lower half – or _her_ lower half, for Regina was fairly certain she'd heard a female voice.

“Oh, really? And why is that?” said Regina as she folded her arms and shifted her weight to assume the familiar stance of the humble-compared-to-a-queen but confident mayor. 

One second passed, two, three, ten, and Regina wanted to stomp her foot when she realized she wasn't getting an answer. Instead she marched forward, but when she had almost reached the figure, it disappeared. Regina blinked, blinked again, then saw the outlines of the same figure further out in the distance.

It looked like she wasn't getting answers out of this dream at all.

\---

After brushing her teeth, Emma climbed the steep metal stairs to her room at the loft and slid into the bed next to Henry. It was barely big enough to hold them both now, what with him being all long and gangly limbs, which she was absolutely sure would land in her stomach at some point of the night, and she wasn't looking forward to it. He turned away from her a touch too quickly, causing the bed to squeak in protest, but Emma didn't comment. Neither of them was really ready to talk about the elephant in the room tonight. Instead, she turned and awkwardly brushed his hair back to plant a kiss on his temple. “Good night, kid.”

“G'night.”

\---

Emma was a vivid, frequent dreamer, so she couldn't exactly tell whether a foggy lakeside smack dab in the middle of nowhere had been the setting for one of her dreams before. She knew something was off, though, when she thought of herself moving forward and promptly did; because she was also aware that she had never reached that level of lucidity. 

When she looked up, she discovered the one familiar thing in this dream, and the one that was bound to completely catch her off guard.

“Regina!”

The woman with her lithe, compact figure and the shock of dark hair, smart layers grown so long now, turned around. All in one piece, makeup flawlessly in place. Emma wanted to laugh and cry and lose her breath and she wasn't sure why. Her feet moved toward Regina of their own accord.

Regina, meanwhile, visibly startled herself, sported that wide-eyed look that could make her appear almost innocent, almost sweet. 

“Emma? Why are you here?”

And again, entirely of its own accord, Emma could feel a grin almost split her face in two. “I don't know. Do you dream of me often?” Emma would swear up and down that flirting had been the furthest thing from her mind, but the faint blush that she thought she could see on Regina's cheeks gave her a pleasant tingle in her stomach regardless. 

But nothing made her feel better than the practiced roll of Regina's eyes. 

\---

“This isn't a normal dream,” Regina enunciated carefully, hoping the information would get through to Emma. Sometimes she forgot how obtuse the woman could be. Willfully, she often suspected, but she had long given up getting angry about it. If there was one thing she was now absolutely sure of, it was that Emma did exactly what she wanted, at least when it came to Regina. 

For once, fortunately, Emma seemed inclined to listen. Regina didn't miss the way she wrapped her arms around her torso; a protective gesture. “So what is it?”

“I don't know. I'm sure it's significant somehow, but I'm afraid I haven't the faintest clue as to why.” As she talked, Emma's gaze caught onto something behind her, and Emma jerked her head at it.

“What _is_ that?”

Regina turned around to see the hooded person or creature sitting in its old spot, which caused her face to settle in a frown. “That, I don't know either. Whoever they are, they're not forthcoming with the answers. I've asked.”

Luckily, now that this had been dealt with, Regina could see the opportunity in their situation. She turned back toward Emma and approached her. “Whatever the reason, it's good that we meet here. I'm in the Enchanted Forest, at Snow's castle, but I won't be for long. I must be here for a reason, so tomorrow I'm going to start looking for answers. I have no idea how far I'll have to travel.”

Emma leaned toward her. “The Apprentice told us the Sorcerer has answers. The Sorcerer who is none other than Merlin.” She laughed, shook her head. “God, I'll never get over this fairytale thing. I saw that movie in theater when I was a kid! Very special occasion.”

“You know those movies are nowhere near accurate, right?” 

Regina felt the corners of her mouth quirk up and Emma tossed her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, looks like we gotta find a way over there. Too bad all those magic beans got burned, huh?”

Regina shot forward and gently touched Emma's arm. “Emma, no! I can do this.”

“What? No! I'm not just going to leave you alone with this.”

Hearing these words, Regina's smile turned sad. “You've already given me an important clue. All I ask is that you keep Henry safe.”

The name of their son was enough to get Emma to still and swallow. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

As the darkness enveloped them, Regina's hand still rested on Emma.

\---

Like in old times, Regina rose with the first sunlight to a loudly rumbling stomach. Hardly surprising, considering she hadn't eaten since she landed in this place. And with the palace deserted, she could of course not count on a maid entering the door with a steaming tray any second, so after stretching, she stood up, walked to the table, and focused her magic.

Magic and food were tricky business. With the imagination of a woman who'd always had an unseemly, healthy appetite and the experience of a practiced cook, she could dream up any number of rich dishes easily, but they would never be quite as nutritious as the real deal. She ended up covering the entire table with foods from every corner of the world and voraciously eating it all. The initial magically induced satisfaction would soon fade, she knew, but for now she was pleasantly sated. 

That accomplished, she freshened up, using magic as well. 

Then she teleported herself into her old chambers and threw fireballs into every corner. While they burned, her heart swelled with pride and pleasure, but she also felt herself missing something. 

After all that had happened, she'd thought she'd feel more peaceful.

But Regina could not breathe any easier now than ever. An echo of rage took her, causing her to burn the wall hangings in the hall as well. _You're embracing the darkness well_, a voice that was her own yet not quite piped up, sending a shudder down her spine.

Regina stood in the hall amidst flames that could not harm her, but wrapped her arms around her frame as if suddenly cold.

\--- 

Camelot was not a foreign name to Regina; wouldn't have been even without the cartoon in the other world that Emma had mentioned, or the books Henry devoured when he had his big medieval phase. Her kingdom had not traded with the island country, but some of the Northern kingdoms had. She teleported herself to the Northern border of the realm and then had to brave the unknown on foot. 

Up there in the woods beyond the border she knew a mute witch, but they'd only ever met on Regina's turf. The witch was mute because she'd had her tongue cut off during a very close call with angry, superstitious villagers, and as it so happened it had been Regina who'd helped her escape alive. Though they never warmed up to each other – witches rarely did – the witch owed Regina a certain debt of gratitude. Of course, Regina had long since cashed in her favor, but still this acquaintance was her best bet that she could think of if she was to reach Camelot. 

She walked along a half-overgrown dirt road for half a day, until she happened upon a wide creek that leisurely made its way between the trees. The water looked so fresh and clear that Regina could not resist stopping for a moment. Lifting the drab skirts she had changed into, she carefully climbed down a sandy patch by the water and bent down. She made a cup with both hands and immersed them in the water, which was cold enough to shock. Eagerly, she brought her hands to her mouth and lapped up their contents. She did this once more, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, musing that maybe something of her stint as an uncouth bandit had stuck with her.

Just as she was about to stand back up, a sound she hadn't heard in years drifted to her ears. She stilled, listened, and looked up from her bowed head. Yes, not far from her were two horses, obviously taking a drink as well. From the looks of it, they were wild. 

A horse would be practical. Just about worth gold. The feet she was crouching down on were already starting to pound with ache. 

Wild horses, though. Hardly suitable as a mount. 

But her feet ached, and that little shadowy wisp that was new in the back of her mind longed for action, for the execution of her will. Regina had made her decision. 

She stepped back onto the grass and made her way toward the horses; and didn't get far before they noticed her and raised their heads in alarm. “Shhhh,” she tried to soothe them, one hand outstretched with her fingers pinched, as if holding a sugar cube. To no avail. 

Within a split second, she turned her hand around, opened it, and cast a binding spell on one of the horses, leaving the other to run away. The one she'd caught fearfully watched her as she finally came to halt in front of it. The animal had big, beautiful, brown eyes with healthy long lashes. Regina swallowed.

“I'm sorry,” she told the horse, for she truly felt sorry for what she did next.

Which was to plunge her hand into the horse's chest and pull its heart out. The binding spell kept it from whinnying in pain and protest. The heart glowed red and bright within Regina's careful hold. It beat in time with her rapid breath. “Stay still,” she spoke to the heart, at the same time waving her hand to release the horse from her previous spell. 

Once mounted, Regina stroked the animal's fur. “I'm sorry,” she said again, “but I really need your help now.”

She told herself that it was enough.

\---

Damn, the place really was creepy. That was definitely a thought that ran through Emma's head as she descended the stairs to the Storybrooke asylum, which incidentally was the only thing akin to a prison the town had. The place looked dark and uncomfortable, too-white light bouncing off equally white walls and floors. 

Behind a reception desk sat the nurse who'd been working here for the past thirty years; the name tag attached to her blouse read “Ratched”. Emma greeted her curtly and the woman returned her greeting, looking entirely unimpressed.

Following a quick conversation, they made her way down the hall, Nurse Ratched following Emma with her bundle of keys. Their path sent them past Zelena's cell, but Emma didn't spare it a look. That was another problem for another time. For now, she needed the help of a different prisoner.

A few doors further down the hall lay Isaac Heller's room. Emma allowed herself a second to hesitate, then knocked.

“Yes? Come in?” 

Emma gave Nurse Ratched a nod, who then proceeded to open the door. Emma muttered a small thanks and stepped through the door. 

“Miss Swan! What a pleasure,” Isaac greeted her in his faux-cordial way. Emma resisted the urge to punch him, but she did make herself as tall as she could and crossed her arms. 

“Pleasure isn't mine. I need your help.”

“Yes, I assumed that would be the case. How can I be of service, here in my cell?” A magnanimous gesture of open arms on his side, as if showing off his surrounding. How the various people around her managed to make _gestures_ look this sarcastic, Emma would probably never understand.

“Remember how Regina completely wrecked your alternate universe?” Oh, the impotent fury on the man's face right now. Emma was petty enough to savor it. “Well, she's in trouble now. And the only solution to our problem is Merlin. We need to get to Camelot. We're all out of magic beans, so I thought you might have an idea.”

“Well, I suppose you'll just have to kill someone important to you and cast a curse.”

At this point, Emma definitely felt a nervous tick in her brow coming on. “I'm serious. Curses are not the only way to cross realms; there's got to be another way.”

Isaac leaned back in his bunk and sighed. “Always another way with you heroic types. Okay, fine, I'll play – seeing as I'm incarcerated and have nothing better to do – but listen to me,” he swung his torso back forward and caught her gaze, “there is no guarantee this'll work.”

“Tell me.”

“You know that page I was trapped in?” Emma just nodded. “Now, I'm not sure of this, but it stands to reason that there are other pages in the book that function similarly. If you can find one that leads to Camelot – oh, right, all you need other than that is the quill and that's broken.”

At these words, Emma felt her stomach sink. She shook her head, curls flying. “No. There's got to be a way. Can't a new quill be made?”

Isaac, the unhelpful jerk, just shrugged. “I don't know. But you'd still need an Author, and seeing as your sprog refused his calling, it appears there isn't one.”

Her lungs felt too tight, and Emma felt like she couldn't breathe suddenly. The rising panic inside made her forgo pleasantries, and she whirled around and stormed out.

“Chin up! You're the savior after all!” Were Isaac's last words echoing after her.

\---

The trouble with these heavy steel doors was that they tricked you into thinking they were sound proof. Which Emma discovered soon enough when she stepped out of Isaac Heller's door and heard a very familiar voice calling to her from up the hall.

“Pssst, Emma,” Zelena called, face pressed through the bars in her door's tiny window. “Don't you want some pointers at someone who's got experience with dimension-jumping?”

Emma shot a look at Nurse Ratched, who'd just locked the door securely. The look she got back was so unimpressed, it was only befitting for a nurse employed by Regina Mills.

But she didn't seem to object, exactly, so Emma walked down the hall until she was facing Zelena. Who still had that eager, unsettling look on her face, eyes always opened a little too wide. “What have you got?”

Zelena's grin widened. “Well, the Author's method is very nice, if a bit convoluted. But it all depends on the right ingredients.”

Ready to take up the gauntlet, Emma stood up as straight as she could and crossed her arms. “So tell me.”

“Uh-uh.” Zelena's hair flew with an exaggerated headshake. “Now, you didn't think I'd do this without a return favor, did you?”

“What do you want?”

“Nothing much. Just a little bit of freedom.”

Emma could feel her teeth grinding. “I don't think so.”

“What, so you want to just give up on my dear little sis? You'll never find what you need on your own.”

Suddenly feeling her frustration boil up and threaten to spill over, Emma gave the steel door in front of her a good kick. “We'll see about that. Just you wait.” She jabbed a finger at Zelena's face.

The she turned around, finally ready to storm out dramatically. 

“Just you wait.”

\---

A walk through the woods surrounding Storybrooke, angrily kicking at any small pebbles in her way, helped Emma regain her cool. Once she'd completed her round, she headed straight to Granny's. Inside, her parents and Henry occupied a table, together with Killian. He raised his eyebrow at her as well as his hook, in a weird piratey sort of 'tip the hat' gesture. “Hello, love!”

“Hey everyone,” Emma greeted back, earning her a frown from Killian and smiles from the rest of the family. “Can I sit?”

“Please,” Henry immediately patted the free seat next to him. He had a twinkle in his eyes. Perceptive little shit.

Emma sat down without commenting and grabbed the menu, more to have something to do than for a need to actually look at it. Granny's diner was one of those places that had its bit of standard fare which you knew by heart after a week, anyway. At the same time, it was a hallmark of the town, much different than the many hole-in-the-wall pizzerias in Boston or New York. Emma liked the coziness of it.

“So what's up? You seem down,” Mary Margaret's voice cut through her thoughts. Fretting, worried, as always. 

“Talked to the Author – Isaac Heller, I mean,” she gave Henry a nod and an awkward smile, which he returned. “He claims there's gotta be another lost page through which we can get to Camelot. _And_ that we'll have to forge a new pen to get through.”

Dismayed faces all around. “Well, how are we going to do that?” Mary Margaret asked, and Emma shook her head.

“I don't know. Magic, I guess? Maybe I need to, like, research.” And tell Regina, though for some reason Emma didn't want to tell everyone else about her meeting with the new Dark One.

“Be careful, honey.” “If anything happens –,” David interjected.

“I know. I'll take care. I just – I want to save Regina.”

They didn't have time to share a sigh, for Leroy, of all people, just happened to walk by, on his way from the counter where he had just ordered a beer. Having overheard them, he stopped in his tracks. “Save Regina? You really think that's worth the effort?”

Immediately, Emma could feel her whole body stiffen. As if it had waited for this. “Of course it is!”

“I don't know,” Leroy replied, hunching over and giving her one of his looks that always meant he thought he was being especially clever. “Seems to me that being the Dark One isn't a thing that's really got a cure.”

“Well, I don't care. We'll find one. The Apprentice said we just need to find Merlin, and he'll have answers.”

“Merlin. Like in Camelot? Okay, sister.” Leroy shrugged, clearly not convinced. “But if you wanna ask me, that's way too much effort for Regina. And with her gone, we're rid of the Evil Queen _and_ the Dark One at the same time. I say we should leave her there.” Behind him, other patrons of the diner shouted and cheered.

Emma just stared at them. “No! I'm not gonna do that. What the hell is wrong with you? She's Henry's mother!”

Getting a pitying stare from someone who frequently spent the night in a cell at her office proved to be a particularly humiliating experience. “Guess I won't be keeping you from it.”

With that, the conversation was clearly over. Emma returned to her menu, tuning out the suspiciously loud whispers from the people around her little family bubble, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught Killian staring at her with a quiet intensity. Avoiding his much-too-knowing glare, she stared at the menu again, but found herself unable to decipher what she saw. In the end, she ordered a grilled cheese.

\---

It was only late afternoon when Emma and her family had finished eating, so there was plenty of day left for her to take some things into her own damn hands. Of course she well remembered Regina admonishing her not to try to get to the other world, but if Emma was honest with herself, she knew that she'd never really planned on listening. 

Like hell was she going to leave Regina to her own devices at a time like this. Just the last few days after Regina had taken Emma's sacrifice upon herself had seen her anxious with uncertainty, wondering what would happen to Regina now.

If they'd even see her again. If they'd see her again as a full Dark One, hell-bent on achieving whatever it was she wanted to achieve.

So she held onto the worn surface of her bug's steering wheel, the leather of her seat supple and softened with time, as she drove out of the town proper toward the Author's mansion. 

In broad daylight, the place looked nice enough. Romantic, even. Like some noble family's house in a period movie where they wore powdered wigs and perfectly able-bodied men carried canes around with them for fashion.

As soon as she set foot inside, however, she shivered. She hadn't noticed the magic in the air when she'd had Regina and Henry at her side to explore the place with – but now that she was alone, it was a different story. Like destiny calling to her, and yet a sense that she'd missed something, a crucial turning point.

She'd come here once to beg Mr. Gold to take away her magic. Afraid of turning dark. Naively thinking she was even capable of that, that darkness was an option.

Whatever “darkness” even meant. She'd still hurt people, even though supposedly without it. Sometimes she had these moments that were like waking up from a dream, and in those she strongly suspected this whole light and dark thing was a load of bullshit. Then she got caught up in fairytales again. 

Such as literal Dark Ones that she had to somehow not defeat. 

At least she supposed she was glad she still had her magic, because she had no idea how she'd pull off what she had to do now without it.

The thought occurred to her that she should've just grabbed Henry and gone back to New York like she planned to, and she immediately hated herself for it.

It took her a few attempts to find the right hall, but finally she found the secret entrance to the big library of empty storybooks, stepping through it already resigned, because what could she find here that she hadn't seen already?

She slouched over to one of the shelves and pulled out a book. 

And gasped audibly when she opened it. Before her was a full spread page, one side text and one side illustration. An illustration that showed something she'd seen before – the maelstrom of darkness that had swallowed up Regina.

But it was Emma inside.

Emma shut the book with a loud, dull thud. The cover material suddenly felt slick in her hands, which were sweating profusely, and so she hastily put the book back to avoid staining it and wiped her hands on her jeans. 

The room's air was stifling and the wood grain on the floorboards was very loud, and Emma didn't know what to do with herself, so she went on to grabbing another tome, which she opened with trepidation.

The book now slid out of her hands and crashed onto the floor, the page she had opened it on still conveniently open, facing the ceiling and Emma as if mocking her.

It was an image much like the one Regina had held so dear, she'd taped it back together after tearing it apart. It showed Regina and Emma herself, faces close, foreheads touching, looking lost in their own little world.

Emma's heart beat so fast suddenly, it felt like it wanted to jump out of her chest. And yet she found herself crouching down and stroking the page carefully. She felt a bit queasy in her chest and couldn't tell if it was a sense of wrongness or yearning that made her so.

\---

The witch whose help Regina hoped to seek lived deep in the woods on a mountainside. The paths that led to her house were steep and narrow, and occasionally broken by a stream of water. Regina could feel the poor horse's muscles strain every time she made it step over one of those creeks, and she knew it was both for exhaustion and thirst. She'd driven it fast to get ahead, and it needed rest. Undecided, she stroked the animal's mane and made soothing sounds, but that only caused it to quiver even more beneath her.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh and finally dismounted. “We can't stay long, but you shall have a drink.” The horse began lapping up the fresh stream water dreamily, and Regina bent down to get a small taste herself. She marveled at the stream's quality as the cold liquid ran down her throat. The tap water in Storybrooke was a far cry from this clean, mineral-rich mountain spring. Regina still preferred indoor plumbing, but she couldn't deny the pleasure she felt at drinking this.

Once done, she gave the horse another pat. “Not much longer now,” she told it and swung herself on its back.

Darkness had definitely fallen and Regina had sent a magic light to lead her way when finally, a crude stone-and-reed house came into view.

Regina commanded the horse to stay put and carefully placed its heart into her travel bag. Then she went up to the door and knocked. 

When nothing happened, she knocked again.

Then it opened.

Inside it was dark and quiet, making Regina suspicious. But she had no time to waste, so she carefully stepped through.

Immediately, a binding spell seized her, so quick she had no time to respond. 

She froze immediately, the reaction so deep and so old she imagined she could feel her bones creak, suddenly brittle like her fluttering heart. For a second, she let herself hang in the air and breathe shallowly. A light came into view, and with it the person she'd been looking for.

“It's me, Regina,” she croaked.

The witch, whose name was Mirka, began gesticulating in a way it took Regina a moment to register as sign language. She'd learned bits and pieces in her dealings with Mirka, but never become proficient.

“What was that?” She shouted, paralysis and fear now giving way to frustration. A frustration that quickly turned into rage, rage that whispered to her and reminded her that she was above simple binding spells now.

Snapping her arms outward, she broke the bonds easily. Mirka stopped her signing and stepped back, clearly sensing the change in Regina now.

Regina felt a grin spread over her face. “Yes, that's right. Something's different. I'm no longer a simple amateur witch.” Immediately, her hand shot up to return Mirka's favor, catching her in a binding spell and lifting her up in the air.

“Now, we're old friends, and I'm sure you'll be willing to help me.” 

Nothing happened, except Mirka wriggling her fingers.

“Oh, right.” Another wave of Regina's hand, and Mirka was sat down on the floors.

_I'll help you if you'll leave me alone_, Mirka said in agitation. _You've always been more trouble than you're worth, Regina._

Mirka's wrinkly, knowing eyes bore into Regina's quite pointedly, and Regina's mind was clouded with memories. She recalled being young and – no longer innocent, no, not after she'd killed the girl who may or may not have actually been Rumpelstiltskin's apprentice – young and still hopeful, then, and rescuing the older witch with her heart full of righteous solidarity. 

She also recalled tricking Mirka into giving her a magical artifact years down the road, when she'd become the scourge of the land. By promising to give her back her voice and not bothering to follow up on the promise. Purely for petty pleasure and psychological warfare.

But having done all of that, it was somehow not so hard to stand up to Mirka's gaze now. “I need to get to Camelot, as quickly as possible. Tell me which way to go.”

\---

Later, they sat in silent, wary companionship by the fireplace. As a sort of meager peace offering, Regina had conjured up some hot chocolate, American style – with all the refined sugars and the whipped cream and the cinnamon, too. Which she almost wanted to spit out with how homesick it made her. Mirka sipped it with gusto, though.

She still held her eyes on Regina relentlessly, a continuous warning not to try anything funny. In the end, Regina downed her cocoa in one gulp, letting it scald her throat, and stood up. 

Then she stayed there, unsure what to do. It was the middle of the night, and she was tired, Dark One or no Dark One. She looked at Mirka, who, after a moment, shrugged, sighed, and set her mug down. _Alright, alright, you can sleep here_, she said and led Regina up a rickety set of stairs to a low attic filled with hay. It was a bedding thoroughly unfitting for a Queen, but Regina figured this was really no time to complain.

\---

Sleep carried her back to the twilight lake. It was just as foggy, the light source illuminating the scene just as mysterious as last time. There was no sight of Emma, but the hooded figure sat once more on the riverbank. She (? probably she) was weaving a chain of apple blossoms, the flowers appearing out of nowhere. There were no flowers growing here, only dull green moss and limp grass.

Regina watched the scene until she got tired of standing around. “So, are you going to tell me who you are?”

Surprisingly enough, the hooded figure reacted. It ceased its task and lifted its head just a fraction. “My name is Nimue.”

“Nimue,” Regina tested the name out on her tongue, forehead creasing in a frown. “Like the legendary Lady of the Lake?”

Regina couldn't really see Nimue's face, but she could swear she saw the woman smiling. “I'm legendary now?”

“Have been for quite a while. How come you're here?”

Nimue resumed her task, new flowers appearing in her hands as she went.

“Well?” Regina had never had much patience for cryptic types, nor much respect.

A few flowers later, Nimue finally deigned to speak. “The same reason you are.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Nimue's hands stilled, and she abruptly changed the subject. “You weren't very nice to that horse today.”

The frown on Regina's forehead deepened. She knew by now that this was no ordinary dream. Still there was a tightness in her chest. “I wasn't. But I did what I had to do.”

“That's what you've always done, isn't it?” The black hollow of Nimue's hood was directed at Regina again. “There's a reason the darkness likes how you taste,” and she spat the next work out in a way that made Regina bristle all over, “_dearie_.”

And Regina knew at once. 

(she'd recognize that tone of voice anywhere)

“Enough!” She thundered, all Evil Queen for a moment. A wave of magic rolled off her, which did little more than to lightly ruffle Nimue's clothes and blow away her flower chain. Nimue tilted her head at Regina. 

“Now I have to start all over again.”

\---

After a surprisingly dreamless night, Emma did not awake in any way refreshed. She'd been lying awake for what had felt like hours, completely immobile in fear of waking Henry next to her, and then fallen into an uneasy sleep. Now she was low on sleep and excused her crankiness at breakfast with a lack of caffeine in her system.

She left the loft on foot, unsure where exactly to go. After yesterday, she was certainly determined to avoid the Author's house at all cost, and told herself there probably wasn't much more to find there anyway. 

Instead, she turned toward the cemetery. What exactly _did_ Regina have a mausoleum full of magical scripts and artifacts _for_, after all? Suddenly having her drive back, Emma descended the stairs hidden beneath Henry Sr.'s coffin and soon found Regina's collection exactly where she remembered it.

The problem was that she had also forgotten that most of the books were written in Half-Elvish or some other completely absurd language, and she had no hope of identifying the artifacts without the books.

Still, she pulled out a tome from the small shelf – and immediately starting coughing profusely from all the dust she had catapulted into the air. 

For about an hour and a half, Emma pored over the books, stubbornly willing her brain to make sense of the foreign symbols in front of her. “You'd think special savior magic would grant one language skills,” Emma griped to herself, intensely wishing she'd paid a bit more attention during her lessons with Regina.

If only this were just a lesson with Regina.

\---

The day wasn't over before Emma found herself back in the asylum.

“Alright, Zelena, spill.”

Zelena jumped a few times, feigning overdone excitement. “Oh, do I get my freedom?”

Emma gave Zelena her best “badass sheriff” glare. “For now. Until Regina comes back. And only under my supervision.”

In response, Zelena bit her lip. It seemed to Emma like she was holding back a retort.

Seemed it was likely that they both knew she couldn't hold Zelena back if she wanted.

But then Emma thought of something and grinned. “Yeah, okay. I'm gonna let you out. But I'm gonna have to get back to you. _After_ you tell me what exactly I have to do.”

That got a pout out of Zelena. “Take me to Rumpelstiltskin's shop. I have to see for myself.”

Of course. Sighing heavily, Emma pushed herself off the wall she'd been leaning on. “Fine. Wait here.”

\---

What Emma needed to get, of course, was the magic-restraining cuff. Zelena predictably wasn't happy at all with this development, but she didn't protest beyond a few verbal objections. Apparently she would see reason for now. 

Emma called Belle before going to the pawn shop to give her a head's up. The poor woman was distraught enough as it was, with Gold still in a coma. A sudden Zelena in her home might just have been too much for her.

The light filtered through the small windows, illuminating dust swirling in patterns. Zelena, with the utter lack of a sense for personal space that was apparently particular to the Mills women, breezed right through the door leading to the living quarters, leaving Emma shooting a hasty apology to Belle and struggling to keep up with Zelena.

“Will you take me with you to Camelot?” Zelena casually asked as she was looking through a row of slightly moldy looking flasks containing liquids in all colors. 

“Why would I do that?”

Zelena turned and gave her a toothy grin. “Why, someone's got to show you around, otherwise you're never going to find darling little sis.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, looking right through the ruse. “You just want to be there to taunt Regina.”

Attention back to the flasks, Zelena just shrugged. “I need to get my fun somewhere, now that I'm incapacitated.”

Sisters. Emma had to roll her eyes. “Well, I don't know what else to do with you anyway, so why not.” 

“AHA!” Emma winced, Zelena's exclamation so shrill it almost rang in her ears. “Found it!” She dangled a flask with a dark purple liquid in front of Emma's face.

“What is it?” Emma asked, eyeing the object warily.

“This is the answer to all your problems. It's a spell for dimensional travel Rumpelstiltskin experimented with long before he came up with the curse.”

“Did you torture that out of him?” 

Silence. “Anyway, the reason he never used it was because he was missing a key ingredient.”

“And that is?” Emma was kind of proud of herself for very expertly raising one eyebrow. Maybe she might make a decent villain after all. In a parallel universe.

“Why, your blood of course!”

This entire magic bullshit was unbelievable sometimes. Emma groaned, covering her eyes with a hand. “Why is it _always_ my blood?”

“Comes with being the Savior.”

“I was only the Savior to break the curse in the first place!”

“Sorry, I don't make the rules.” Zelena seemed entirely too pleased with this. “So you see why he never used it. He could hardly attain the blood of someone who hadn't even been born yet.”

“So what, does it have to be 'riled up' or something.” Because that would be just one too many adventures than she could use right now.

“Nope, regular's fine.” 

“Okay, so, we're gonna head back to my place and make plans. We'll decide who comes with, who stays, and what we need to take. Then we do it.”

\---

Meanwhile, Regina awoke with the break of dawn and wasted no time in continuing her journey. As a parting gift, she offered to restore Mirka's tongue, but Mirka refused, making it clear she wanted nothing to do with the magic she had now, least of all a part of her body. Regina remained in the doorway for a moment, her hand itching to _just do it_, but she kept the urge at bay and left quickly.

Her horse, at least, had had a full night's rest. She rode with unease, a heavy weight in her chest. Since her dream last night, she felt a marked difference. As if she could recall – not memories, exactly, but she was feeling, and feeling and feeling, and couldn't tell which was hers and which was a previous Dark One's. 

And they were all in pain, and they all just wanted to destroy and take. It was to the point she didn't even need to know the story.

She knew it too well.

It was a wonder, she thought, that she had never needed to stop just to vomit into the shrubbery, when night fell once again. By this time, she'd made enough progress that she should reach the sea the next day, but for tonight both she and her horse needed to rest once again. It seemed she was quite in luck, though, for she reached a lone house not long after dark. Tying her mount to a tree once again, she knocked at the door.

“Just a moment,” a voice could be faintly heard through the door, which was soon opened by a woman with Middle Kingdom features.

“Good evening,” Regina said. “I'm sorry to bother you at such an hour, but could you lend this poor traveler shelter for the night? I'm on my way overseas and will be gone at first sunlight.”

The woman eyed her from head to toe. “Who's asking?”

Regina gave a smile she hoped wasn't too strained. “It's Ms Mills.” Careful now. Her given name had been well-known among the populace, and even this far from her kingdom, she couldn't be sure not to be recognized. Her family name, though, was luckily another matter.

From the look the woman gave her, Regina could tell she wasn't entirely fooled. “Alright, Ms Mills. For one night, you may sleep on the extra cot.” 

“Thank you kindly.” Regina gave the woman a smile that was genuine and stepped over the threshold. “What's your name?”

“Oh, my name? My name is Hou Mingfan. I suppose you can call me Old Hou,” there was a mischievous quality to the woman's smile, “it's what everyone else does.”

“Old Hou? You don't seem very old to me,” Regina offers by way of conversation.

“Tell that to the kids these days! I don't know, somehow it's just what's established itself. Care for a hot drink?” Regina nodded and was handed an earthenware mug with some kind of tisane in it. Hou Mingfan indicated a chair for Regina to sit on and sat down across from her. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Hou Mingfan's clever eyes searched Regina's face, and Regina felt the hairs on her neck stand up and her face heat. “No,” she answered, a little too brusquely, so that she took care to modulate her voice after, “I'm not from here at all.”

“Funny, neither am I. As I'm sure you can tell.”

“You're from the Middle Kingdom, right?”

Hou Mingfan didn't quite shrug. “My parents were. I was born there, but moved further north when I was just a baby. Then a few years later, we had to flee again.”

Regina's neck hairs stood just a little higher, her face was just a bit hotter. “What happened?” She sat, immobile, her whole body tense.

Hou Mingfan eyed her for a long moment. “The Queen burned our village down. My parents decided to leave altogether instead of trying to reconstruct something they hadn't even had time to properly build. They died many years later. I've been living here since.”

Her mouth was so dry, and she couldn't remember the mug of hot brew in her hands. It was like her hands didn't exist. “It must've been hard for you.”

Another long gaze. “It was hard. I'll never forget the fire. People died.” Then, Hou Mingfan stood up and went to rake the fire. “Well, Ms Mills, you better catch some sleep if you want to move on early.”

And Regina did just that.

\---

Or she tried to. For a long time, Regina lay on her side in the hard wooden cot, listening to the draft that came in through the gaps in the doors and windows as well as the chimney. It was just background noise to the loud voices making strong high sea waves in her head, saying _kill her, kill her, before she slits your throat in your sleep_. Her heart beat the rhythm to a melody of fear and loathing and bloodthirst.

She fell asleep with her nails digging deep half-moons into arms where she had already scratched bleeding groves, clinging desperately to a promise made in a dream.

Her mind in slumber did not quite leave her respite. Once more, her twilight lake set the scene, but instead of Nimue sitting on the banks, it was an all-too familiar figure.

“Emma,” Regina managed to force out of her throat. 

And Emma turned to her and her smile was so _bright_, too bright for this setting. Like all of her, all of her. “Hey,” she said simply. “Glad you made it here.”

Regina couldn't help but huff a disdainful laugh. “Don't be glad just yet.”

Emma tried for mirth, but Regina could see through it. “What, you planning on insulting my leather jacket all night?”

The eye roll was an automatic response by now, and Regina was glad for it. “Believe me, if I wanted to insult you, I'd find much better ways.”

Too soon, Emma sobered, even as she patted the space next to her on the squishy moss. Despite a bit of apprehension, Regina sat down next to her. 

“How are you holding up?”

Together, they stared into the black depths of the lake, which reflected barely any light. Regina shrugged. “I'm doing fine.”

Emma turned toward her. “You sure about that? Cause, lady, you pretty much radiate darkness right now.”

Another short, bitter laugh. “Well, I'm trying to keep myself from killing a woman whose family I uprooted when she was four as we speak, if you want to know.”

“Oh.” A moment of silence. “Is that why you have blood all over your arms?”

Regina looked down. She hadn't even noticed. It didn't even hurt. “Yes. I suppose it must be.”

“Listen, Regina,” Emma was looking away again, shoulders hunched, as if not truly daring to say what she had to say next. “I'm traveling to Camelot. I'll meet you over there.”

Blood boiling, Regina grabbed Emma roughly by the shoulders. “I told you to leave it to me!”

She didn't know what her face looked like right now, but it must be ghastly, for Emma wasn't usually this rattled by her mere yelling. Regina wanted to either slap her or dig the groves in her own arms deeper. Emma gulped before finding her voice again. Before shoving back just as hard, hands gripping Regina's arms so they were sort of locked into each other. “Well, how do you want me to leave you all alone when you're over there fighting murder urges?”

They stared at each other, breathing heavily. 

“I'm not leaving you alone,” Emma continued, “no one is. Not me, not Henry, not my parents.”

“You're not bringing Henry,” Regina gasped.

Emma smiled back at her. “No, I'm not. But he's thinking of you.”

Then Regina found herself enveloped in a hug. And she clung to Emma, clung and clung until morning came.

\---

“Why did you let me live tonight?” Regina asked when she was leaving.

Hou Mingfan just shrugged. “I don't know much about you, but I do know that if you were here to destroy, you'd have done so by now. You weren't going to hurt me. So I figure any energy I could spend hating or trying to kill you is better spent on the fields.”

Regina didn't thank her. She had known it wasn't a case for gratitude the minute she'd turned to Hou Mingfan and made eye contact with her and they'd gained an understanding the way people often do if they'd at one point just happened to be on opposite ends of a war.

Then she felt her arm itching and crawling, saw an image of her hand in Hou Mingfan's chest flash before her eyes, and took off running toward her horse.

\---

Emma checked the inside of her jacket for the dagger she perfectly knew was there, because she carried it at all times, slept with it under her pillow, but she still felt the urge to make sure. She, her parents, Hook and a handcuffed Zelena stood in a small circle in the street. Henry was behind her. She turned to him, giving him her brave face and a smile. “Be good while we're gone.”

Abruptly, she found herself in a bear hug. “Take care. Find her.”

Emma held Henry tight for a moment. “I will.”

Letting go felt like the hardest thing in the world right now. She put her hand on his face. “Don't bother Granny too much, yeah?”

It was his turn to braveface. “Promise.”

“Okay.” Emma wriggled her limbs, trying to loosen her tense body, to little avail. Then she turned back toward the circle of people. “Alright, let's get this going. Zelena?”

“Here. I'm here,” Zelena said, in that too eager way of hers, and came up to Emma. “I'll need a sample of your blood, please.”

Emma gave her the stinkeye, which was met with an unrelenting smirk, and pulled a clothespin out of her pocket. “Prick – _ow!_”

Right then, Zelena jabbed the pin into Emma's finger, then held her blood over the open flask.

“-- gently.”

Everyone watched as the blood and the potion reacted, quickly expanding out of the small bottle, forming a cloud that was soon big enough to hold them all. 

“Here we go!” Emma heard her mother's voice. It sounded almost excited, and Emma couldn't believe her own ears. She had no more time to be appalled, though, because already she was being swept up by the spell and carried through dimensions.

\---

When she finally reached the harbor town, Regina said goodbye to her horse, putting its heart back and erasing the memories of the last few days. She took the ferry and soon set foot in the realm of Camelot for the first time.

From there on it was, so to speak, smooth sailing. She had much less of a reputation here and could move about the place more or less freely, asking for the way frequently, riding in the backs of hay carts, and finally walking the last part of the way by foot. 

Words could not describe the relief she felt when she could finally see the castle of Camelot rise up in front of her eyes.

Words could _definitely_ not describe the surprise she felt when a group of people materialized right in front of her. A group of very familiar people, as it happened. One of whom happened to be –

“_Henry?_” Instinct took over as she ran to her son, putting her hand on his shoulder and forehead, checking him all over for bumps and dents.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, as if they were in Storybrooke and he was coming home from school.

The fury welling up in her this time was, at least, all her own. She zeroed in on Emma. “How could you do this? I told you not to bring him!”

And Emma? Emma just blinked. “I didn't. I was gonna leave him with Granny.”

“What?”

“Mom, it's okay,” Henry said, and she turned back toward him. “I kinda jumped onto the spell.”

She could already see his sheepish flinch when she stemmed her hands into her hips. “Henry Daniel Mills! This is _really_ not the time!”

“Seriously, kid. I told you to stay put.”

Seeing himself confronted with a united Mom Front, Henry had the decency to shrink a little. “I just... I couldn't. I had to see you, Mom.”

And just like that, Regina's heart melted, and she took him into her arms. “I can't even tell you how much I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” 

Opening her eyes a crack, Regina's eyes met Emma's, watching them almost tearfully. And Regina thought of curses and flying monkeys and New York and held onto Henry a bit tighter.

The moment was finally ruined when Hook, of all people to take on this journey, cleared his throat. “This is really heartwarming and all, but uh... I think we may have a problem.”

He indicated his hook toward the Castle, and everyone turned that way. Quickly approaching them was a garrison of guards. Almost automatically, everyone moved closer together. Which was when Regina realized Zelena was here.

“Hi, sis,” a coquettish wave.

“You took _her?_” Regina hissed at Emma.

“I had no choice! She helped us get here!”

“Well that's just –“

The guards had reached them. The interrogation began.

\---

In the end, they were welcomed at the court of Camelot. The Charmings and Hook introduced themselves as who they were, whereas Regina and Zelena were demoted to ladies in waiting. (Regina ignored urges to wring Snow's neck. She had practice.)

They wined and dined and were shown to lavish chambers. Regina dreamed.

It was Nimue again this time, hanging the mossy trees with her apple blossom garlands. “Here again, I see.”

Regina turned away from her. “I don't want to talk to you.”

Nimue, of course, ignored her. “Don't you want to wring her pretty neck? Don't you want to kill them all?”

Regina shuddered. “Do you even hear yourself talk?”

Silence. The flowers Nimue was handling didn't even rustle, nor did her clothing. 

“I know how you feel, you know,” she finally said. 

The arrogance. Of all the bullshit in Regina's life, having her emotions explained to her was perhaps the worst. “Really? How is that?”

“Betrayed. Violated. I know because I feel the same. Always. Constantly.” 

Regina didn't look at her. She didn't look at Nimue because no matter what she'd gone through, she was still being presumptuous. Regina's pain was hers alone, and she would decide how to deal with it. “So what? Your betrayal isn't my betrayal.”

“Perhaps not.”

The sentence was so emblematic of Nimue's infuriatingly cryptic manner of speaking that Regina was determined not to dignify it with a response. However, the utter stillness of their environment, where no wind blew, no animals were to be heard and the water made no waves, unnerved her to the point that she could only pick the conversation back up.

“But Snow? I've forgiven her. We even get along these days.”

“Have you?” Surprisingly, and perhaps for the first time since this all started, Nimue raised her voice. Not by much, but there was emotion in it.

Regina contemplated this. “I have, actually. It doesn't mean she doesn't still irritate me sometimes.”

“But it lingers, doesn't it?”

She gave a nonchalant shrug. “That it does.” But nothing to be done about it now, was there?

But Nimue persisted. “See? That's what I mean. Once betrayal hits you, nothing will quell the feeling.”

Regina gave her a long stare. And since it seemed that Nimue _wanted_ to be asked, Regina gave in to curiosity. “What happened to you?”

“My entire village was killed. I fled. I grew. I tried to forget. I took revenge. Then the man I loved turned against me because he lost faith in me.” There it was again. The penetrating stare from no eyes, no eyes at all.

That particular description caused Regina's throat to close up. For a moment the thought that she might be looking at another of her victims flashed through her mind. But it couldn't be, could it? She would've thought Nimue much older than her. 

Nonetheless, cold sweat gathered on her forehead as they stared each other down. “I'm sorry to hear that,” Regina eventually choked out.

The fact that she got no answer told her more than she needed to know.

It took another short while for Nimue to ask a different question. “Haven't you ever asked yourself where our dagger is?”

It occurred to Regina that in all the last week's happenings, she hadn't.

The black hole of Nimue's hood was staring at Regina again. “Ask her when you wake up tomorrow.”

\---

As if the dreams weren't enough, Regina had been made to share a suite with Zelena. Logical, perhaps, but that didn't make it more pleasant.

“Good morning, sis,” Zelena greeted her, appearing entirely too cheerful for this early in the morning.

“What do you want, Zelena?” Regina moved to pass by Zelena and get out of the room as fast as she could, but Zelena blocked her way.

“Why do you always presume I want something?”

Regina commented that with a glare.

“So, how does it feel always being the special one, oh Dark One?”

Sometimes Regina couldn't believe her bad luck. To share genes with this moron. “You want to talk about _special_, Miss I-traveled-dimensions-via-magic-tornado-as-a-baby? Really, you've got that in spades.”

Zelena was quiet for a moment. “The wanted one, then.”

There was real hurt clear on her face. Something Regina wouldn't have expected Zelena to express so openly. 

“It's not just mother. It's not just Rumpelstiltskin. You have a whole group of people willing to risk life and limb to get to you. Even now.” Zelena threw the washcloth she'd been wringing into the washbowl with too much force, splattering water everywhere, and stalked out of the room, leaving a perplexed Regina behind.

Regina cleaned up the mess and then walked down the hall, when suddenly she at once had the acute feeling of being stared at. She stopped in her tracks and looked around – just in time to see a maid round a corner not far from her.

Just a week ago, Regina might have wondered if she'd just imagined that. Now she knew with preternatural certainty that she had not. She could almost watch the maid move along the corridors in her mind's eye.

She took note of the incident and mentally readied herself.

\---

They got the honor of sharing breakfast with King Arthur and Queen Guinevere personally, as well as the Knights of Round Table – sans Lancelot, as Mary Margaret somberly noted.

“Yes, we all miss him dearly,” said King Arthur, and Emma decided right away she didn't like the guy much, because she could tell someone uttering a mere formality from sincere condolences. King Arthur didn't miss Lancelot particularly.

Guinevere seemed more sincere, but then Emma wasn't sure if it was to her credit or not. She knew the story, after all. But then she also immediately decided that it was none of her business. What was her business was finding Merlin as soon as possible. Which she addressed.

“Ah, yes. Merlin. About that,” Arthur seemed clearly embarrassed, “Actually, I'll have to disappoint you. No one's seen Merlin in this generation, nor the one before, nor the one before. To be honest, he might as well be a myth as a real person.”

Emma saw Regina stiffen across the table and ached in sympathy. “Well, I don't accept that!” Regina shot up from her seat. “I _know_ Merlin is real. He must be. Otherwise the Apprentice wouldn't have told us to seek him out.”

“If you're sure, we wish you good luck in your search, but I'm afraid we cannot help you.” Now Arthur's eyes held genuine sympathy, endearing him to Emma just a bit more.

They finished their meal otherwise relatively unperturbed, except for the tension that was tangible in-between Emma's family group. 

At the end, everyone stood up, but as Emma was about to leave the room, Regina intercepted her. “We need to talk.”

\---

As they walked down the halls to find and empty room to have a private conversation in, Emma tried hard not to think about Killian's face, of which she'd caught a glimpse as they left the dining hall. About the mixture of disappointment, frustration and jealousy she'd been seeing on there so often lately.

Well, if he couldn't deal with her having other important people in her life, that was his problem right now.

Her problem was dragging her by the arm through a door into what appeared to be a dusty storage room and closing it behind her. Emma rubbed her arm gently, then folded both.

“Okay, what did you want to talk about that involved you having to drag me around like that?”

Regina didn't even look sorry, just anxious. “The dagger. You have it?”

Emma blinked. “Huh? Yeah. Got it right here.” She patted her jacket where she had the dagger stored in an inside pocket.

Which caused Regina to just stare. “That's where you keep it? It appears you're even more of an idiot than I thought!”

“Hey!” Emma so wasn't going to play that game right now. “Where do you suggest I store it? Sorry I'm not strong enough to conjure like, a magic portable safe or something.”

“Give it to me.” As if expecting Emma to immediately follow up on here request, Regina stretched her hand out.

“Excuse me?”

“Give. The dagger. To me.” Regina enunciated every word carefully, as if talking to a petulant child.

Definitely not one of Regina's habits Emma had missed. Hackles raised, she was determined to stand her ground. “I don't think that's such a good idea.”

But _oh_. Oh no. It was as if she'd flicked a switch in Regina, who now looked less certain, shocked, even scared. “You won't give me control over myself?”

“Oh. Oh shit, fuck.” Of course, in the heat of the moment, Emma hadn't thought about it like that. She pushed her hands up into her hair and let out a long breath. 

Instinctively, Emma felt Regina was right. No one should have that much control over her. Not even Emma. At the same time, a voice in her head told her about the Greater Good. That it was unwise to leave the dagger in the hands of the Dark One.

_Fuck destiny_, Emma thought decisively, and took the dagger out of her coat. She handed it to Regina handle-first, seeking eye contact. “Here. Take it.”

Regina took it from her with a firm grip. “Thank you.” And then Regina almost fled the room, leaving Emma behind in the medieval broom closet. She just hoped she'd made the right decision.

_Fuck destiny_, she thought again. _The damn thing never delivered anyway._

\---

Never had Regina been so glad to not be somewhere on a diplomatic mission. If she were, she'd have a schedule and would probably be making small talk with court lords and ladies right now. As it was, she was free to escape to one of the Castle's balconies for some fresh air. The dagger sat securely in her own coat now, masked from the mortal eye with a cloaking spell.

She leaned on the railing, breathing in the fresh, unpolluted air, hoping to calm her nerves. 

And that other thing, that ever-growing desire to _punish_. She was beginning to feel about as unforgiving toward the tiniest slight against her as she had in her Evil Queen days. She felt herself careening toward being that person again and mostly felt helpless to stop it.

Maybe it had been a bad idea to demand possession of the dagger. But she could not, _could not_ let anyone else have it. Not even Emma. 

“Your Majesty,” a voice sounded from behind her, and she had to exercise quite a bit of self-control not to jump.

Couldn't a woman have a moment's peace around here? She turned around to face the newcomer, gave him a curt nod. “Captain.”

“So,” he continued, making a wide gesture with his hooked arm. “Seems we find ourselves in quite a bit of a pinch, don't we.”

Regina eyed him sharply. “What matter is it to you? Aren't you just here to trail after Emma?” She didn't bother to hide the disgust in her voice.

Big mistake. The anger that was rarely very deep beneath the surface of Killian Jones' mien was now clearly visible. “You know, you really should be more grateful. She doesn't have to chase after you all the time, like you're some lost puppy she needs to bring home. Frankly, I don't get why she does. You and I both know what you really are.”

Regina, never one to back down from an exchange of vicious barbs, stood up straighter. “And, pray tell me, what is that?”

An ugly sort of smirk spread on Hook's face. “Just this. Evil. Forever. It's what you were meant to be, isn't it?”

“You don't know anything.” And normally, normally, it wouldn't have hit her. Normally his stale insults would've read as what they were and slid right off her.

Unfortunately, the moment she'd knocked the dagger out of Emma's hand, normal had flown right out of the window, and now Regina's mind was roaring.

“Face it, Regina! You'll always be like this!”

Regina felt her magic exploding outwards and then knew nothing for a few long moments.

\---

What she knew when she came to once again was that she was sitting on the floor and around her was a veritable commotion. A lot of people from the castle had congregated around a central point. It took her a moment to make sense of the scene and make out Snow and David, with disapproving glances, and Henry, with an uncertain one.

Emma emerged from the crowd and ran toward Regina, kneeling beside her. She put a hand to Regina's forehead, as if measuring a child's fever. “Hey. Everything alright?”

“I think so,” Regina slid out from under Emma's grasp. “What happened?”

“Uhhh,” Emma let her go freely now and looked away. “I think you hurt Killian pretty bad.”

Regina gulped. “How bad?”

“Bleeding profusely and probably gonna need to stay in the hospital bad?” Regina groaned.

Emma stood up and offered her a hand. “I'm gonna get you to your chambers. Then I'll have to check up on Killian.”

Regina nodded and let it happen, not looking at the man on the floor as she passed him by.

\---

“So what the hell just happened?” Emma turned to Killian as soon as the others had left the room. She crossed her arms habitually, anticipating that he might want to play coy and communicating that she was going to have none of it. “Seems like Regina didn't blast you just for the fun of it.”

Killian gave her a furious glare, but incapacitated as he was, it didn't intimidate her much. Well, truth be told, it never had. “I might have made some... untoward comments.”

Emma always gave as good as she got; so now she stared right back down at him from her perch on the bedside. “Like what?”

“I pretty much said she deserved to be the Dark One. That she was always destined for it.” He had the decency to show some contrition, but it barely registered with Emma amidst the disappointment and anger his words stirred in her.

“Seriously? Is that what you believe?”

“Not really. I don't put much stock in destiny.” 

“Then why?” 

“Because she's taking you from me!”

The bed squeaked loudly as she abruptly sprung up onto her feet. “Excuse me? _That's_ what this is about?”

He said nothing, just stared at her out of his soulful bad boy eyes, still rimmed with a smidgen of the eyeliner she was sure he actually used to really meet the cliché. Killian was a smart guy that way – almost genre savvy in a modern sense – and knew it was what many girls fell for. 

Maybe Emma had too, just a little.

“Okay, listen, here's the thing. Regina _can't_ take me away from you. Because I don't belong to you. I never have. And frankly, I had no idea you felt that way.” One thing to commend Killian Jones: he had actually been there for her in some moments when it counted. Made a girl think things could work out.

The guy had the nerve to laugh bitterly. “See, that does prove my point, actually. You never really knew what I felt. Too busy running after Regina.”

Emma grimaced, sharply pulling down the corners of her mouth. “Maybe. But that's not on her. It's on me.” 

“You were lying to me, then.”

“Not intentionally.” Again, Emma winces a little at her own words. “Look, I didn't like, intend to string you along, if that's what you're thinking. But, this...” she gestured between them, “I tried, I really did. But I don't think it's gonna work out.”

“So you're leaving.”  
“I'm not leaving. I'm breaking up with you. I'm not going to just let you rot away in Camelot. You and I, though? We're over.”

Really, Emma surprised herself with how certain she was of this. If you'd asked her just half an hour ago, she would've told you that she was trying her best to make it work. Now she hardly remembered a moment when it had really been _her_ trying and not Killian chasing, always chasing. Even when she had so many other things to worry about.

Even when her heart maybe didn't belong to him at all.

\---

“Funny thing,” Emma called from the riverside. “I didn't think we'd be meeting like this again.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Regina dared a small smile. “What, like we were only meeting in dreams as long as we were separated in life?”

Emma shot Regina her brilliant, sightly lopsided smile. “Or something.”

Like in the previous dream, Regina sat down next to Emma, and they remained like that in silence for a while. 

“I'm sorry I hurt Killian,” Regina burst through the quiet; then hastily added, “for your sake, not for his.”

She felt Emma duck away, and the faint sense of loss that came with it. “Yeah, well, he told me some stuff about what he told you. And like, that doesn't make it okay, but...”

“But?”

“But he shouldn't have said that.”

Regina smiled at Emma, somewhat bemused. “So you don't think I'm destined for eternal evil.”

“Of course I don't think that.” And Emma, bless her heart, looked sincerely devastated at the prospect. As if it were so strange for Regina to think so. “Regina, _no one_ is destined to be evil. I mean, yeah, okay, you have your weird fairytale world, but as far as I'm concerned? People do good things, people do bad things, and it's the summation of those things that others will later judge them on. Anything else is just propaganda.”

Regina stared at Emma in wonder. There was nothing else she could do. And the amazing thing – Emma looked back. Stared back. Got lost in each other back. 

So lost they forgot themselves. So lost Emma leaned forward, and forward, and forward, until her lips met Regina's. The touch was gentle and made Regina just a bit warmer inside, and, _oh_, she could _almost_ taste her. The kiss still felt earth-shattering, or world-shattering, for Regina's world? Consider it well-shattered. Consider doors closed and roads opened she never dared dream would be.

Consider: after what felt like an eternity, Emma and Regina coming apart again, both of them being just as they were, neither of them daring to talk about it.

\---

The most beautiful sight that had greeted Regina in the morning in possibly, well, ever, was Emma smiling, in the doorway to her room. Remembering last night's dream only made it better. It also made it a thousand times worse.

Because here she was, well-kissed, still the Dark One. And she knew they wouldn't talk about it. Emma was smiling too much to want to talk about it. Regina wasn't going to ruin it.

Luckily that task was taken from her, because just in that moment, three guards arrived in their room.

“To the throne room,” they ordered brusquely. When Regina and Emma hesitated, the men took them by the arms. Both of them shook the soldiers off, but followed them to the throne room, meeting Zelena, Snow and David, and Henry along the way. Regina beckoned Henry to her side and slung her arm around him.

“Mom, what's happening?” He whispered up – still a tiny bit up – into her ear.

“I don't know, honey. It'll be okay,” she whispered back.

It looked like the entire court had gathered in the throne room. Both King Arthur and Queen Guinevere and the entire Round Table as well as assorted other advisers, court ladies, and guards were present.

“Hey,” David yelled at them, and Regina wanted to smack him for his boorish lack of décor – décor that could _save your life_ in a situation like this, damnit – but was hardly in a position to. She just clung to Henry, who was tense beneath the arm she'd slung around him, and exchanged a worried gaze with Emma. “What is all this supposed to mean?”

It was Queen Guinevere who stood up. “My husband and I have had you under close watch since you arrived. It appears you've been deceiving us.”

“You've been spying on us?”

“You fool,” Regina couldn't help remarking. “That's what any good ruler must do. You should _know_ that, _Prince Charming_.”

Laughter made the rounds. Even King Arthur was grinning a little. Regina gave him her best glare. “Yes, you should know that. How else should we have known that the Dark One is among our guests?”

As the laughter before, a gasp now went through the room. Regina herself sucked in her breath. And kept holding it as Emma stepped forward. “Yeah, she is. But she's not going to do anything.”

“Isn't she?” Guinevere asked, face hardened. “Hasn't she already hurt your companion?”

No witty retort to that. 

“My husband and I have decided,” Guinevere continued. “You shall henceforth be banished from our lands.”

“But – but we still have to find Merlin!” Emma was all but pleading with them now, her face so open and sincere that Regina had to close her eyes.

“Look for your legend elsewhere. You won't find him here either way. It is decided,” King Arthur continued.

“No!” Emma didn't back down. “We haven't hurt any of your people! We're here to help Regina. So that she won't be the Dark One anymore. We're here --”

Then something unexpected to all participants happened. Out of the crowd, a man shot out and seized Emma, a sharp-looking knife quickly at her throat. He held her in an expert grasp, like someone used to effectively seizing a strong opponent. 

“Emma!” Snow and David shouted, at the same time as Henry shouted “Mom!”

Regina's throat was strangled shut, so she shouted nothing. In front of her mind's eye flashed again the scene that brought her here: Emma, picking up the dagger to save her, picking her own doom in the process.

Finally, something broke within her. Rage swept over her, as it had so often lately, but suddenly, she saw clearly. As if she'd arrived in the eye of the storm.

“If you give us your dagger, she lives!” The man taunted. Not for long.

Because Regina raised her hand, and then the whole court could only watch helplessly as her magic expertly immobilized Emma's attacker, making it easy for Regina to tear him away from Emma, plunge her hand in his chest, taking his lovely black-flecked heart out, and crushing it in her palm. The body landed on the floor in an undignified heap. 

She did all this as if in a trance. It allowed her to not feel much of anything about it. Not much of anything at all.

It was quiet in the room. Regina built herself up.

“You thought that was enough to bend me to your will? Don't embarrass yourselves.” She took a step forward, making a point to hold the gaze of every important person in the room. “I am no amateur who has just been laden with power. I'm a practiced witch. 

No one shall take my dagger. And _no one_ will hurt anyone I care about.”

She turned to the royal couple, smiling and folding her hands together in a mockery of humility. “We shall take our leave, as you desire. But know that it is only because I am feeling gracious. Good day, your majesty.”

She turned with a flourish and left the room without looking back.

\---

Of course, the band of idiots she called family was not far behind. A hail of steps fell on the stone floors behind her and echoed off the walls as they caught up with her. 

“How could you, Regina?” Snow's ever-plaintive voice reached her ears.

Regina whirled around. “What, kill a man who was about to hurt Emma?”

“Yes! Regina, I thought you'd changed. I thought you were stronger than this.”

It was really an odd thing, how Snow managed to have the highest and lowest expectations of her at the same time – but Regina was certainly in no mood to contemplate it. “I saved her life!”

“This is not how we do it. Good doesn't do this.”

“Do you really value your own personal idea of 'goodness' more than your own daughter?”

Regina knew she'd said the wrong thing when she saw Emma's face falling. Emma looked at her, looked at Snow, then turned around and stormed down the hall. Bestowing a last accusing glare at Snow, Regina followed.

\---

_I hate fairytales_, was all Emma could think as she walked – she didn't know where. There was no longer anywhere to go, no longer any hope. She might as well just surrender to Arthur and his knights and get herself killed, for all the hope there was.

She wasn't going to do that, of course. Henry. Henry needed a mother if Regina someday could no longer be it. Emma held on to that thought, because it was about the only thing tethering her to the present right now. That, and –

“Emma!” Behind her, catching up to her, was Regina.

Regina who was the mother of her son and whom she'd kissed in a dream and who just killed someone to save her. This Regina: in that precise moment, she was everything.

“Let's run away,” Emma blurted out.

“What?” Regina stared.

“Let's run away. Let's elope. Let's make some kind of fantastic escape. Let's just run and go find Merlin on our own.”

Wonder of wonders, Regina's eyes softened at that. Still she answered, “You know we can't do that.”

Emma let her shoulders slump, quickly admitting the impossibility of that. Her family was not a problem to run from, but old habits died hard. “Yeah, I know.” 

Regina didn't reply, and that gave Emma's frantic thoughts a chance to slow down, beyond the fervent wish to just _escape_. She ran her hands through her hair. “Okay, to be honest? I don't think they're wrong. 'Cause, I'm really disturbed right now.”

When she saw Regina's affronted face, she hastily continued. “I mean, I'm grateful too. That guy was about to kill me. I just wish it didn't have to end this way. Couldn't you have, I dunno, done the creepy mind-control thing?”

“I suppose I could have.” 

They both stared at the floor for a long moment. Anywhere but each other.

Then somehow the words in Emma's brain, those she never knew where she stored them, came tumbling out of her mouth. “But it also just sucks, you know? They're so – they're so caught up in their little world where everything is heroes and villains and true love's kisses and shit. I'm supposed to be a hero, but I don't even get true love's kiss.” 

She gave Regina a watery smile, which grew only wetter when she saw Regina's hurt look. “Sorry,” she said. “That's not – I'm sure it's my fault, okay? I'm a good kisser, but apparently not a true love level kisser.”

That elicited a lopsided grin, at last. “Or maybe it's because it was in a dream.”

Emma laughed, shrugged. “Or that.”

“Do you remember when you killed Cruella?” Emma winced, but nodded. Not one of her finest moments. “Your parents used about every excuse in the book. And rightly so. See, at the end of the day, your parents don't take principles half as seriously as they pretend to. It's all about who they see as belonging to them.”

“I guess that wasn't you for a long time, huh?” 

Regina folded her arms and looked away. “I guess it's still not me.”

Emma moved closer. “Hey, c'mon. No. They'll come around.”

“I don't know. Should they?” She still wouldn't look at Emma. “I've barely been the Dark One for a week, and I've already heart-controlled a horse, hurt someone and killed someone.”

“A horse?” Emma felt her lower lip quiver. Emma had never cared very particularly for horses, but there was just something so viscerally, uniquely wrong about hurting an animal.

“The horse is fine. But I just – I don't know. I've got so much rage inside me. Always have.”

Emma really hoped her excessively raised eyebrow conveyed enough incredulous sarcasm. “Hello? Not news to me.” 

Another small smile. “But it's stronger now. More than that, it's not all my own. It's like the anger of all the Dark Ones. There's so much pain. So many are rooted in pain.”

“So they end up hurting people because they're hurt.” 

“Well, some of them. A lot were also in it for personal gain.”

Emma looked at Regina for a prolonged moment. For a woman who kept so much to herself, Emma could read her devastatingly well sometimes, but other times she was an utter mystery. “Oh. Well. Figures. So what's in it for you?”

Regina didn't answer.

\---

They collected Hook from the Castle infirmary and left under the watchful eye of the guard, tension high among each other. At night, they put up camp in the woods and sit around the fire without talking much. Hook was asleep and recovering and the Charmings with Emma had gone out to look for food and more firewood, for which Zelena had tagged along, so Regina and Henry were essentially by themselves. 

They sat near the fire, not talking. Henry stirred the embers with a stick he'd found. The silence stretched on between them until finally, Regina couldn't take it anymore. She turned toward Henry. “Henry, I'm sorry you had to see that. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He poked the fire some more, then sighed deeply. “I just... I mean, you did it to protect Emma. But you killed someone. But you protected Mom.” She tried very hard to hold back the almost hardwired wince that came to her when he called Emma that. It was concealed when Henry turned his head to her. “It's just a lot, you know? I think I'm gonna take some time.”

“Oh, Henry,” Regina said, and she carefully reached out to take his hand, touching lightly at first until she was sure he permitted it. “I understand. I know I was scary back there. But Emma was in danger. I felt like I had to act.”

“I guess that happens sometimes,” Henry said, furrowed brow that of a child trying to learn to think like a man, but still her very own boy, the one she'd raised up to be the truest believer in good and heroes she'd ever known, without ever meaning or wanting to.

“Unfortunately it does.” She lightly stroked her thumb over his wrist and conceded, “But we can always strive to do better.”

He put his hand over hers. “I think so, too. And I know you can do it, Mom. I have faith in you.” They sat in silence until the rest of the group came back.

\---

Meanwhile, in the woods, Emma was collecting firewood when Mary Margaret approached her. “Hey,” she offered by way of initiating a conversation.

“Hey,” Emma shot back quite brusquely. She didn't really want to talk.

Mary Margaret came up next to Emma and bent down to fish for a piece of wood. “How are you doing?”

“I'm fine.”

Her mother looked on as she busied herself breaking a smaller piece from a large fallen branch. “You know I didn't mean to imply I don't care that Regina saved you, right?”

“Really?” Emma shot her a glare. “'Cause it didn't sound like it.”

Evident shock spread on Mary Margaret's face. “I just... I thought it went without saying. You're my daughter. Of course it's the most important thing you're alive. I just don't think it's right for Regina to just kill someone like that.”

“Yeah, well,” Emma fully turned toward her and held her gaze now, “life doesn't work that way. I know it, and you know it too. Honestly I'm thinking it's more that you're looking for a reason to feel better than Regina.”

“I –,” Mary Margaret protested, but Emma didn't let her get that far.

“But whatever unresolved issues you two have, I'm not really interested in literally getting caught in the crossfire, okay?”

She went back to her gathering, not before kicking at a stone on the ground and watching it roll around in the grass that was sparse beneath the trees. Everyone around her could be so frustrating sometimes.

“Of course not,” a quiet, contemplative reply came back. Crackling footsteps followed. “Here, let me help you,” Mary Margaret offered with a smile when she'd caught up to Emma. 

Emma tiredly smiles back. “Okay. Let's get this over with and get back.”

And so they did.

\---

Everyone settled down to sleep soon after a crude dinner, but Regina lay awake watching the last bits of smoke rise from the ashes of their fire, which they'd extinguished for the night to avoid detection. Her earlier conversation with Henry still gnawed at her. She felt guilty even at her relief that he now forgave her so easily. It was a sign that he was growing up, and growing up into a world full of violence, and she mourned the gradual loss of his innocence, and even the simple view of the world which had once frustrated her.

This wasn't what she'd had planned for him. He shouldn't have to experience that. She'd wanted him to grow up with love and hope, a life full of good things. 

Not a mother who kept disappointing him.

But before she could fall too deep into brooding, she felt a stirring behind her, a rustling of careful trying-to-be-quiet steps. Whoever was causing the ruckus was moving toward her and soon definitely behind her. 

“Psst, Regina,” Emma's voice said just as Regina was about to turn around and check. “Got some more room in there?”

Regina did turn around then, if only to give Emma a disbelieving stare. “What are you doing here?”

“I don't know. Couldn't sleep?” The corners of Emma's mouth quirked up, beckoning Regina to take pity on her. Regina rolled her eyes and slid back to make some space in her bedding. Emma laid down beside her, facing her, and pulled the cover up to her chin. “Thanks.”

“Just don't hog the cover.” This prompted Emma to demonstratively hand over an inch or so of it, and Regina rolled her eyes again.

They both huddled together, silence stretched between them. Clearly neither of them was going to sleep. “How are you holding up?” Emma eventually asked.

And Regina couldn't look at her then, at the gentle concern in Emma's eyes. The one other person who had looked at her like that had been Robin, and he'd never known her as Emma had. Maybe that had been something that attracted Regina to him – the prospect of getting a fresh start had been enticing.

Emma had seen so much of her and still cared and Regina wondered how long until it was all going to fall apart. Everything did in the end. 

A gust of wind scattered some of the fire's ashes, almost illustrating her point.

“I'm doing okay,” she said. And she was. She had to, didn't she? 

Fingers sought out hers under the cover. “You sure about that?”

Regina stroked Emma's fingers lightly while contemplating the question. She wet her lips and adjusted her position. Her shoulder was starting to feel numb. “I think you should have the dagger.”

The bedding rustles beside her, and she felt Emma's foot bump into her leg, followed by Emma uttering a small apology. Emma had shifted her face a bit closer to Regina's. “Is this because of what you did?”

Regina breathed a laugh. “You can say it out loud.” Then she turned to Emma, whose nose was now almost close enough to touch. Her eyes were really very green. “But yes. I've been thinking about it, and... I want to say something different, but I can't really tell what I'll do.”

“Okay,” Emma said, expression blank and open.

The dagger was on Regina's body at all times, so she shuffled around and freed it from her clothing before handing it to Emma. “Keep it safe.”

Emma covered Regina's hand holding the dagger with her own and lingered for a moment. “I will.” And Regina later wouldn't be able to tell how long they stayed like that, how long they just looked at each other, or if she'd imagined it that they eventually started breathing in rhythm, but at some point they drifted off to sleep.

\---

In her dream at the lake, Nimue was picking apples. Small green ones with a hearty red cheek. They grew from the garlands she'd hung over the trees last time.

“I don't think that's how you grow apples,” Regina commented, taking in the slightly grotesque view of fruit disconnected from the tree they grew on, like a caricature of nature that still somehow worked in spite of it.

She still couldn't see Nimue's face, but Regina could've sworn the woman was smirking at her. “But they grew, didn't they?”

“That's a fair point.” Goal-oriented thinking. Regina couldn't argue with that too much, even if she was also usually invested in proper methods.

Then there was a break in conversation, because Regina was unsure what else to say. She fidgeted a little by rubbing her fingers together. When she looked at Nimue again, Nimue appeared to be tilting her head at her, observing her. “Why so glum?”

“Is it surprising that I'm glum, now that it seems so unlikely we'll ever find Merlin, that I'll ever be free of this?” Regina scoffed for emphasis.

Nimue stopped the movement of her hands. “Ah. You want to find Merlin.”

“I was told he was the one who could help me. The only one.”

The picking of apples resumes. They weren't quite ripe, as evident by the force Nimue had to use to rip them off their strange flower chains. “Avalon. Go to Avalon. You'll find him there, but perhaps not as you expected.”

“Avalon?” Regina could only blink. “Wait, _of course_ it's Avalon. But why did you never say anything if you knew all this time?”

“We weren't ready for it.” If her entire face weren't hidden, Regina could've sworn she was smirking.

Regina blinked. “We?”

“Mh. Not you and not me.” 

“Be more specific.” Regina thought she was just about to lose her patience.

But Nimue once again grew still and somber. “I haven't been able to let go. I haven't been able to let go for so long.”

Well. That was certainly more open and honest than Regina had expected. She decided to carefully probe further. “Of what?”

“Let him tell you that. Merlin. Ask him when you meet him.”

“What is it that you have against just answering my questions?” Really, Regina knew cryptic speech had its strategic use, but that didn't give her any more patience for it.

There it was again, that feeling of being given a knowing look. It was getting a bit unnerving. “Nothing, but you'll get more out of it if I tell you to ask other people.”

Regina gave her a look that clearly expressed her annoyance. “I doubt that.”

Nimue didn't answer to that, so they stood there for a while, and Regina began to ask herself how long it would take for this dream to end. She had places to be.

“You can get there that way,” Nimue said, suddenly enough to make Regina jump, and she turned from her bored observation of the ever-same surroundings to see Nimue pointing toward the lake. Regina followed Nimue's outstretched arm, only to see the same rickety landing with the same rickety boat, and a dark body of water that seemed to stretch into nowhere.

“What, now? I thought this was a dream.”

“Not quite. It's a dream, but it's also an entry point to a netherworld.”

“_A_ netherworld?”

“Are you surprised there are many?”

“I suppose not.” She eyed the boat dubiously again. “So I just take that boat and... what? Wait to see where it takes me?”

“It'll take you to the right place.”

“Right.” Sucking in a deep breath, Regina squared her shoulders. “Guess it's time to see for myself.”

“One last advice,” Nimue offered. “You won't find Merlin as you expect him.”

The moss was squishy, the boards of the landing creaky under her feet. When she'd reached its end, she grabbed the rope that bound the boat to the small quai to check how stable it still was. It seemed to be quite sturdy at least. From her crouching position, Regina carefully stretched out one foot and put it onto the boat's floor. The boat sank a fraction deeper into the water under her weight, but held up, so Regina fully climbed into it, then untied the rope.

Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised, but she was when the boat started moving slowly, gently, of its own accord, toward the unknown space ahead of her.

Regina looked back at the shore with uncertainty.

\---

This was the first time Emma came to the misty lakeside alone. Or – not alone, just without Regina. She wasn't alone because there was the hooded figure she'd seen during the first time she and Regina had met here. Said figure appeared to be busy with some seriously weird apple trees.

She looked around. “Regina?”

“You're a little late,” came a voice, and Emma turned around to the hooded figure. It seemed slightly odd to her that what she'd heard was a normal, pleasant woman's voice. She'd figured it to be booming or something. Clearly, she watched too much TV.

Let the absurdity of that sentence in this context sink in.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She approached the woman, ready to get answers.

“She left already,” was the simple reply.

Not sure what was meant by that, Emma tilted her head. “Like she woke up?”

“No. She left that way.” The woman nodded toward the lake.

Hadn't there been a boat tied to that landing once? “Crap,” Emma exclaimed and ran halfway toward the shore. “She's gone? With the boat?” She whipped back around. “Where is she going?”

“She's paying a visit to the Isle of Avalon.”

“She just went? But she'll come back, right?” A flare of panic made Emma feel slightly queasy. She didn't trust magical dream boats (not dreamboats, those were pink, plastic, and about the size of a big shoe box). Wherever Regina had vanished to, Emma was sure it was likely to be dangerous.

The woman picked an apple. “Probably.”

“Probably? That's not good enough!”

“Follow her if you like.” Out of nowhere, a new boat materialized on the water. Emma nodded toward the hooded woman, then wasted no time running down the shore and jumping in.

\---

Time appeared to stand still. Around Regina, the waters stretched endlessly to all sides. She should have worried, perhaps, but a strange calm had come upon her. Which was perhaps for the best, because as a practiced sorceress, she knew she was steering dangerous waters. She could get lost in here, and then no amount of shaking her body in the awake world would bring her back.

There was no telling how long the boat glided along at the same pace, but at some point, she felt the speed pick up. The stream went faster and faster, and her ears filled with loud noise. Just seconds later, she could see where she was coming from.

A gigantic maelstrom was right in front of her, and it was sucking her in. She knew she couldn't escape now, and that same strange sense of calm told her she didn't want to.

Soon, she was swallowed up by forces much stronger than her.

When she came to again, she had hit land. Her boat had washed up on a small sandbank at the edge of what must be the legendary island. The weather was brighter, clearer, and it was obviously daytime, though a certain haze still obscured the place, making it so there was sunlight, but no visible source of it.

Regina's path took her through the thick underbrush of a heavily forested place. All different sorts of plants grew here, many of which she'd never seen before. She guessed they were magical. If that was even relevant. Was this Avalon even more than a dreamland?

Eventually, the growth got more sparse and opened up to clearing inhabited by just one plant: a large apple tree. One with its fruit in various stages of rot, though none had fallen to the ground. Indeed, the grass was untouched even by the occasional leaf that would fall from any natural tree.

Rotten fruit on a magic tree.

Before she could contemplate it, she became aware of a sound behind her, a loud rustling of the shrubbery and heavy panting. 

“Regina!” Emma. Emma was calling her name. Emma was here? Regina turned around.

“What are you doing here?”

It took a moment for Emma to answer, as she needed to catch her breath. “Keeping you from, I don't know, whatever highly questionable thing you're about to do.” She stood resolute, arms crossed, even as her chest was still heaving from the exertion.

“Questionable? I'm doing the only thing that so far has offered any kind of solution.” 

“Right. By following a dream woman's advice into a dream hurricane to a dream island. Uh huh.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Regina spat.

That shook some of Emma's confidence. “Uh... asking around? Looking stuff up? Mostly, getting the hell out of here. This place is giving me the creeps.”

Regina waved her hand dismissively, gestures precise in a way she had never bothered to shed. “Well, you can go. No one asked you to follow me.”

“I'm not leaving you alone either!”

“And I'm not going until I get to the bottom of this, so you'll deal.”

They were at a stalemate, each too stubborn to give in. “Okay,” Emma finally said. “But the minute something goes wrong, I'm grabbing you and running.”

Regina huffed, indignant. “See if it works.”

“Guess I will.” Emma made a vague gesture at the scene ahead of them. “So what's all this? Is this gonna help us?”

“I don't know, but...” Regina took in the scene before them. “There's something about this tree. I'm fairly sure this is the center of the island.”

“So what do you think it is?”

Regina didn't answer, just walked up to the large trunk. As she'd expected, it brimmed with magic. She held up a hand and let her own magic flow into it, sent it out to unmask whatever spell lay on the tree. Her hand passed over the worn, overgrown bark. Indeed, her counter spell started to reveal whatever lay underneath – which she regretted when she passed her hand over a spot slightly above her own head.

Mostly because it rewarded her with a shriek from behind her. A very loud shriek.

“Holy frickin' crap!” Emma yelled, and Regina stopped her magic to turn around and check that Emma wasn't fainting or something equally annoying. Which luckily, she wasn't, just standing there with her arms wrapped around herself.

“You're fine,” Regina commented dryly, then looked at the tree again. “So he's trapped in here.”

“Great. How do we get him out of there.”

“That should be obvious. Step back.” Having said that, Regina herself took a few steps back to give herself more room, then focused on the tree, raised both arms and began shooting magic from them. It sped from her hands toward her target in glowing red and white strands, just as it had always done.

It started working, and Regina redoubled her efforts, but hit a threshold. “This isn't working!” She yelled, and when Emma jumped up next to her and let her magic flow into Regina's, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

They were as one.

And, slowly but surely, the image of the tree melted away, revealing the man trapped inside.

\---

“You freed me.” Merlin stepped from the spot he'd been literally rooted to and looked around himself with wonder. 

“Yes, we did.” Suddenly, Regina felt nervous. She fidgeted with her hands. “You are Merlin, right? I was hoping you could help me.”

He eyed her in disbelief. Perhaps it was rude to make demands right after he got to move for the first time in who knew how long, but Regina was here for a reason and she wanted to get it over with. 

“Yes? How can I help you?”

“Have you heard of the Dark One?”

That hit a nerve. Merlin narrowed his eyes and almost imperceptibly shrunk back a little. “I have.”

“Well... I am the new Dark One. And I'm not happy about it. I was told that you would know what to do.” For all her boastfulness, Regina had a tendency to demure when in the position of having to beg. It happened almost automatically and she always hated herself a little when it did.

Upon hearing this, Merlin's face visibly fell. “Oh.” He looked at Regina, a bit of wonder in his eyes at odds with the devastation in them. “It's you. You don't look like it.”

“Yes, well, I suppose the scaliness comes later,” she quipped in retort, “It's only been about a week.”

“That's not what I mean. You have a different air about you.”

“Do I? I don't see how.” Which was true. She was neither very far from her old self nor very far from the former Dark One. Both could appear like average, cordial people in everyday life. It didn't keep them from the occasional murder.

“Well, however that may be, I'm sorry. I can't help you.”

Hearing this caused Regina to freeze up. “Why not?” 

And she hated the way Merlin looked at her with pity. “Because there's nothing to be done. The Dark One must exist for the world to maintain its equilibrium.”

“Wait,” Emma threw in. “Did you just 'balance in the Force' us?”

Merlin gave her a blank look while Regina gaped in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Emma looked at them both, apparently unsure. “It's just,” she started, raising up her hands, “is there gonna be an _actual_ imbalance if there's no longer a Dark One? I mean, I've seen the world. It's not lacking in darkness.”

“That's different. This kind of darkness? You have no idea what it's like. You've never seen the true depths of it, that I'm sure of.”

“Yeah. And you know so much from being stuck inside a tree for the last – what, centuries? Millenia?”

“I was trapped. I wasn't unconscious.”

“Okay, that's creepy.” Emma visibly shuddered, and Regina had to sympathize. The idea of being stuck somewhere against your will for centuries was possibly the most horrifying thing she could think of.

“So what happened?” She dared ask. “How did you get here in the first place?”

“It's not without reason that here is the place I was bound to. The one who cursed me was the first Dark One.”

A gasp came from the woman standing next to her, and Regina herself could feel her jaw muscles tense. “The first Dark One?” And she squeezed her eyes shut, allowed herself to for just a moment. Bracing herself.

“Yes. I'm sure you must have made acquaintance with her by now. Her name is – or was – Nimue.” 

“Wait – Nimue imprisoned you? But she led me here! Why would she want me to undo her work?”

Merlin lowered his head, an abject gesture. “Maybe she's finally ready to forgive me.”

In feverish anticipation of his answer, Regina stepped closer. “Tell me what happened. Were you – oh god, it was you.” Feeling rushed her, a remnant of someone else's anger, part of the deep memory of all the Dark Ones Regina had. “Were you her lover? Did she turn into the Dark One because of you?”

He looked pained now, his eyes pleading with her. “I didn't do it! But... I didn't stop it either. When she acted out of revenge, I rejected her, leaving her vulnerable to a sorcerer who bound the darkness you carry now within her.”

Regina charged at him now, eyes blazing. “Wouldn't that make it only right for you to _pick up your messes?_”

Merlin just stared at her. Then he shook his head. “I'm sorry.” He took a step toward Regina, reached out as if to touch her. She reeled back, and tears began to prick at her eyes. “I'm sorry for everything,” Merlin continued. “For giving up on Nimue so easily. For only realizing the error of my ways when I was trapped in a tree.” 

What a disappointment the great sorcerer was. Strong in magic, that she could feel, but weak as a person. Someone who gave up on things before he even tried. 

Any response of hers was cut short, though, at the distinct moment she felt a new presence on the clearing. A glance behind her confirmed that it was Nimue herself who had joined them. A woman now stood on the clearing wearing the same cloak, but for the first time, the hood was down, revealing her face. 

“Nimue,” Merlin gasped her name, in awe and in shame, betraying a rich and tragic history. 

“Merlin,” Nimue acknowledged. “We meet again.”

Regina was transfixed.

She felt it then, the telltale sign of the a flood of rage sweeping over her. A rage she now recognized as separate from her own, but intertwined. It had fed her and nourished and felt too familiar to distinguish, but it wasn't hers. It was Nimue's. It permeated the air, a biting miasma, bitter and potent.

And it was overwhelming. Regina stood stiff and could do nothing but shudder in her place with the memory of an abject helplessness, one that she knew was, once experienced, inscribed in muscle and bone and sinew; and a fury and tears streaming down her face like the wildest waterfall. 

She saw the tree behind where Merlin had stood, rotten fruit on a rotten tree grown by a rotten soul, a garden grown with effort but no love in barren soil, doomed to failure from the start, destined for futility.

“Your inaction doomed her,” she said to Merlin with an unforgiving finality through the veil of her tears.

“I know.”

Nimue tilted her head at Regina. “You understand me, don't you?”

Then Nimue was in front of her, hand touching Regina's face. “But it's alright. I'm okay. You showed me things could be different.”

“So you'll just forgive him?” Regina choked out.

Nimue turned back toward Merlin. “I had a long time to contemplate things. I had nothing to do but remain in limbo. And he has his flaws, but he also gave me a home. He made me feel safe after I lost everything. In truth I didn't intend for him to remain a tree forever, but it wasn't possible to free him. Not until you two came along.” She chuckled. “A Dark One and a Savior. What a combination.”

Just as she had approached Regina, she now approached Merlin. “I choose to forgive, for my sake and for yours. But I won't forget.”

Merlin gave her a small, sad smile. “I don't think either of us can.”

They linked hands in silent understanding, and then Emma and Regina could only watch as the edges around them blurred and closed in on the two figures – until they vanished completely.

“No,” said Regina, not able to believe what she was seeing. 

“No, you can't do this to me!” Regina heard herself shouting, and then she no longer heard anything, for the darkness had now transcended her body, swirling around her like on that very first fateful evening, when she could've been saved.

\---

Emma could only watch as slick oily strands of darkness bled out of Regina's every pore, or so it seemed, and began congregating around her, tornado-like. 

This was _it_. She was, finally, losing Regina. No matter how hard they'd worked.

Emma was having none of it. She refused. And even if Regina hated her for it after, Emma would always dive into a storm of pure dark magic for her. Which she now did. She jumped right into it and kept pressing on even when she could no longer see, just stretched her arms forward until they found a body, soft but tense and running feverish.

\---

“Regina!”

“Emma?”

Someone was shaking her and yelling in her ear. It cut through her emerging consciousness irritatingly, so that she was soon fully awake. She opened her eyes and squinted in annoyance.

Directly above her hovered the faces of Snow and David, with Henry and Zelena somewhere off to the side. “Oh, thank god!” Snow exclaimed. “You just wouldn't wake up. We were worried.”

Regina just blinked in response. There were a few things she remembered. Merlin. Nimue. Emma's arms around her, holding onto her, wrapping her in soothing warmth. She quickly turned around, and there was Emma, looking about as disoriented as Regina felt.

“Hey,” Emma said, quiet and shy and lovely.

“Hey.”

They looked at each other until their son demanded their attention. “What happened to you guys? You were asleep for the whole day!”

Together, they explained their experience, Regina dryly, Emma with gestures. When they finished, everyone looked at them full of expectations. “So... what does that mean?” Henry asked, and there was so much hope in his eyes that Regina thought she could feel her heart all the way up in her throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Emma regarding her with intensity. “Uhm... I still have the dagger, and...”

Regina gazed down and saw the dagger in Emma's lap. 

_Regina Mills_ was still inscribed on it.

\---

About two weeks after returning home, Regina took a break from work and walked to the park, where she sat down on a bench and spent quite some time watching the ducks on the pond. Being alone was her solace right now, because since their return from Camelot, things had been difficult.

Though Regina tried having confidence that she could continue building her life even while she was still the Dark One, she knew nothing would ever be the same. The townspeople, who had almost come close to tolerating her, now often met her with anything ranging from distrust to open hostility in their eyes. She was lucky to still have her family, but even they sometimes looked at her with worry and an apparent sense of helplessness.

She needed to be on her own occasionally, just so she could bear it.

One thing about Storybrooke and its residents was that old habits died hard. Everyone in town had their long-standing routine, and few had deviated much from it. Which meant that Regina knew exactly at which times she had to take her break to find the park entirely empty, and herself undisturbed for half an hour or so.

Today was different.

Today, Emma Swan sat down on the bench next to her and began throwing pieces of her bearclaw at the ducks.

“Don't feed them,” Regina quietly said. “Ducks can't eat that.”

“So sorry, your Majesty,” Emma quipped, but Regina flinched, even if she knew it was a joke.

“What do you want, Emma?” It was both hard and utterly necessary to keep staring ahead and not look at the woman next to her.

And thereby successfully pissed her off. “Oh, I don't know, maybe to talk to you?”

Now, Regina did look at Emma. Quite incredulously, in fact. “Like you've been for the past, oh, two weeks?”

She watched Emma rake her hands through her long, golden hair. “I didn't know what to say, okay?”

“And the funny thing is, I can't even blame you. I'm the Dark One, after all.”

Emma's eyes turned pleading, and she scooted closer. “Regina, that's not...” Two warm hands enveloped one of hers. “You're not – you're not doomed, or anything, okay? Don't think that. You're still okay.”

“I don't know. Am I? I don't know.”

Something passed over Emma's face then, which must somehow embolden her, because she reached up and framed Regina's face with her hands, softly softly, and leaned in until their foreheads almost touched. “Yeah, you are. You're so worthy. You are.”

They stayed like that, with the first gusts of warm spring wind and the birds making noises around them. Emma licked her lips. “Uh, you know. Remember that one dream?”

“Which one?”

“When we kissed.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“We never actually got to do that for real. And I'd kinda like to.” Her words, her honest eyes, the bite of her lip all conspired – _most insidiously_ – to rouse a fluttering, tender feeling inside Regina's chest, a feeling she hadn't known since – well, Robin, but certainly one she'd never thought she'd feel again after he left. So convinced had she been that he was her last chance, and yet here was Emma.

And yet there she'd always been. Regina didn't know how she'd missed it so long. How long she'd thought her own secret hopes unrequited. But here they finally were, maybe, finally, growing together.

“I'd like that too,” Regina whispered, dared, scared to destroy this still fragile thing. 

But maybe she needn't have worried, because Emma leaned in until her lips touched Regina's, very gently, very softly, her lips slightly chapped in the still-cold air but still so lovely, so lovely. Regina leaned in closer as her hands wandered up Emma's chest to hook around her neck, started kissing Emma a little deeper. 

Emma responded in kind, and warmth and brightness filled Regina the more they kissed, with every little slide or nip, until she thought she might overflow. Scared for so long, she now didn't even think before she gave herself over to this, this connection, and it was as if a heavy weight lifted off of her, as if sharing it chased all the ghosts away.

It was utter bliss, entwined with Emma, who'd wrapped her arms around Regina and snuggled close, scrambling to leave as little space between them as possible.

Of course, they had to part for breath eventually. The almost dazed look on Emma's face nearly made Regina laugh out loud, though she was sure she didn't look any different, and probably sported some ridiculous dopey expression, but she couldn't help it. She had to show how she felt.

Another gust of wind blew a bunch of leaves into Regina's face, eliciting an undignified “Mmph!” from her. Emma looked to the side, and Regina did as well.

“Uhm,” Emma said to the sight that greeted them, wide eyed, “I think we grew a tree.”

\---

Once upon a time, there was a Queen, and she was, finally, happy.

Since her youth, the Queen had had an apple tree that had seen her through her darkest and her best times. Its fruit has nourished her, its leaves granted soothing shade on secret meetings with her first love.

Nowadays, there is no Dark One, but there is another tree in Queen's garden. It is grown from darkness, as the other was grown from light. There are no signs prohibiting passersby from tasting the fruit, and parents do not tell their children horror stories about the tree.

For each fruit only bears so little darkness, it's probably not more than what is already in each of us.


End file.
